The Masks We Wear
by CrazedAuthorNo.5
Summary: Some people only want to be invisible and live in peace. I am one of these people. Unlike them, I get noticed. By things that shouldn't exist.
1. Welcome to Santa Carla

It was like any other busy night at Bill's Diner. People were yelling, demanding beer, and combined with the constant battle to not get your ass pinched, it was enough to give any normal person a migraine. As a standing veteran in the art of avoidance, I have a knack at knowing which guys will do the pinching and when they decide the strike. I may only be twenty, but in this dump you either learn quick or you drop out like a fly. That's why so many runaways have trouble at Santa Carla. You have to know how to survive and adapt to this putrid place. 

Many naïve people see an attraction at Santa Carla. I do not. Shifty people often gravitate to this hellhole. They're not noticed as they would be in normal cities or towns. Their colorful choices in words, clothes, and careers are remarkably telling. It doesn't matter if you're not from here, you can easily see the spark in their hard eyes. They are only here to damage this place. Innocent runaways are not safe from these scumbags. Most disappear in a month's time, the lucky ones that is. Others, like me, stay and live unhappily. 

It's a hard life. I can't stress the humiliation when you first get pinched at Bill's Diner. The hooting and hollering flies from all directions and it alone makes you light headed and very much aware of the disabling scrutiny. You're pined by their stares. After, there are redundant catcalls and jeering remarks from your patrons. I don't say anything. I can't say anything. As much as I hate it here, it's all I got. The minimum wage provides me a little shack in the country and the gas in my dangerous car, which isn't covered by insurance. 

Yeah, I'm making it and trying my best to stay strong; only taking each day at a time. Never thinking about tomorrow or better yet the future, it's a dog-eat-dog world and I'm only a passing ghost in a sea of self-important people. I have no place. Only myself. 


	2. This Is No Fairy Tale

The wind was salty, not yet cool from the sun's rays earlier that day. I was sitting on the beach away from the bonfire parties and drunken surfers. The sand ran smoothly between my toes, relieving me only briefly of the nights grievances. My gaze landed on the dark blue ocean, so dark that it was nearly black. The waves were soft and shallow, but enough to calm. Everything would have been perfect, if it wasn't for the screeching tunes of Jimmy Hendrix next to me.

The so called "Surf Nazi's" racket put me on edge. As the night wore on, the racket signaled their wastedness. The surfers already had no qualms starting trouble while sober. Who would stop them? I never speak unless it was completely necessary to do so.

The night was almost satisfying and relaxing, but a warm wind tickled my nose when I heard a strange high-pitched noise coming from out in the ocean. The soft wind whispered something that I could not decipher. My senses were suddenly alert, and my hairs arouse on my arms. Nausea crept up my stomach to my throat.

_I shouldn't be here._

The wind picked up, no longer warm, and an eerie odor of decay wafted in the air while I begun to sweat with feverishly. I stood up shakily, feeling as if something had hit me in the gut. I turned and began to run toward my car, when I remembered my sandals. I doubled back in a rush and furiously sprinted back to my car. Fumbling with my keys, I roared the engine luckily to life and as my heart clenched, I sped out of the empty lot and toward the highway.

For several quiet moments, I took deep breaths and tried to slow the irrational fear that had flooded my nervous system. A thunderous pound of a migraine began to grow in the middle of my skull. All of my self-control had evaporated for no reason at all. Giggling at my idiocy, I slowed my 75 miles per hour down to a reasonable 45. My smile left my face when I passed a group of kids riding their bikes in the other direction.

I did not stop until I reached my home and settled in my bed for a good night's sleep. I could not find peace of mind to sleep. At the beach the fear was so gripping and quick, that it was hard to say that I reacted to anything. One moment the world had settled down to a dull noise, and then it was as if someone had punched me in the stomach. Was instinctual, or did I imagine it?

These thoughts in mind cause my troubled dreams.

The waking world is gray and lifeless. Dreams were my most precious guard against hopelessness that leaked through my daily routine. While routine can be comforting, I find that the world has faded away. I no longer see a curious future, but the same empty thing, day after day. I look out into the world, knowing that there was nothing left for me to see. My dreams were a ray of light.

As the world was full of bright colored lights and clouded with smoke, I stared into the eyes of a man that I did not yet know or understand. The ugly music filled my ears but did not move me from my spot. The man's face was not recognizable, but he trapped me by a fierce look. People grabbed my arms and pulled me backwards, while some people started to enclose and break my eye contact with this man. My vision swayed and suddenly his eyes captured my own again. A soft touch fluttered over my chin and then my cheek. The stranger's eyes drifted from my lips to my eyes again. He moved closer and the world faded along with the dream.

I woke up predicting my day. The next day was the same as the last: a boring repeat of a routine that had been long since established. The only difference was the news of Santa Carla's amphitheatre holding a masquerade right before my birthday. Not that I could even think of going- and not that I _want_ to attend- I just noticed the coincidence.

As I stopped at a 711 on the way home from work, a group of skateboard punks chit-chatted in the aisle next to me. I listened to them of course. Through the boys squeaking and breaking voices I caught a pair of boys giggling obnoxiously.

"So Martin butchered his right knee, you know?"

"Yah?"

"He tried to hook up with Cameron at the festival. And you know her; she fucking nearly paralyzed the guy. He won't be able to walk for months now."

"Shit man! Remind me never to hit on that broad," replied a young pimply teenager with what I pegged as bluish-green hair. His Mohawk hair was pretty unforgettable.

"I know, but her tits are so…" This was the part where I turned and paid for my slurpy and a pathetic looking tuna salad sandwich.

As I hopped in my Jeep, another group of males were lounging on their motorcycles. While I didn't immediately recognize them, I recognized one of the girls in the center of their attention. She had golden hair, which was Tiffany Swanson's trademark. I knew her through her friend Sally who works with me at Bill's. Sally and Tiffany were attached at the hip, so it only made sense that Tiffany hung around Bill's Diner to annoy everyone that worked there. It was unusual seeing Tiffany without Sally, but the men seemed to be preoccupying Tiffany. Her high-pitched giggle broke my ears and interest.

In my rearview mirror, I turned my attention to the bikers. One had striking blond hair, but that was all that I could tell without obviously staring. In Santa Carla, meeting runaways was all too common. These guys were nothing new to me. Many had come previously searching for either a home or a good time for the coming summer, but I hardly could be bothered. I was here to do work, not distract myself.

As I drove away, a loud and hysterical laugh caught my attention just as four bikes cut in front of my car as I tried to turn right. After managing to calm my crazy heart, I finally pulled out of the parking lot. These runaways really needed to find somewhere else to call home.


	3. Paul: The Divine Savior

_You have GOT to be kidding me!_

Tonight was unlike any other night. Somehow I had managed to get the ugliest, meanist, and most disgusting men in the entire Diner. The current one was appalling me beyond words. His gnarly mustache and unshaven cheeks were dripping in the beer that I had just handed to him. Oil and grease were smeared and caked on his face and hands; I desperately wanted to ask him to wash up before he touched his food. Unknowing of my disgust, or perhaps not caring, he proceeded to pick up his ribs with his grubby hands and ate feverishly. Choking back vomit, I turned abruptly without asking if he needed anything else. _Not like I would have given him anything else_.

I danced lightly through the growing turbulent crowd in the Diner and past the groping hands of the patrons. I avoided a near fatal collision with black haired Ruth, another server, before nearly getting impaled by a sharp knife that our head cook was cutting with. Working at Bill's Diner, was full of minutely dangers. There was a beat and a flow to the crowd. Its tune was discrete, but easy to be in sync with. Once I learned the beat, I could maneuver through any congested room. All that it took was the proper application of push, speed, and dodging.

Luck seemed to have left me when George, an occasional unwelcomed customer, grabbed my arm. His beady green eyes demanded my attention along with his rock hard grip. His oily smile set a cold and tight chill in my spine.

"Listen, love," he smirked satisfactorily, "I know you have been working hard all day. Why don't you let me take you out on a night on the town? I'm sure you have nothing else better to do than let me… spoil you," he continued growing more obnoxious by each second. My heart seemed to have stopped as a dull and familiar thud broke out in my mind. His buddy next to him grinned at George, conveying some small message that made me very grave on the inside. No good would come of this.

"I'm sorry. But why would I, after a very long and difficult day of work, want to go out with a man who is about the same age as my father, to an ambiguous place in a town where people go missing every day? Do you think I'm stupid as you or something?" My questions surprised both of us and I felt I had nastily smacked the man in the face. George's face immediately reddened, while his friend's grin slid right off of his face. _Oh, you idiot!_

I saw George begin to rise, but his quick friend caught his arm. George glanced at him furiously before pausing at his friend's dead stare at me. George slowly sat back down before glancing at me with the same face.

"We are gonna wait for as long as it takes." I took both of them in with wide eyes and sent my thanks heaven-ward that Ruth called out my name, excusing me from their silent and not so silent threats.

The rest of the night was spent quickly and painfully conversing with customers. My head felt like it was bleeding and exploding from the inside but I continued my duties with a pained smile on my face. Bill and the rest of the servers stood out of my joyless way, knowing that something had happened that I would not divulge. I never had, and never would confide in them.

The night ended before I knew it. During that time, I had calmed myself and reasoned. Why would they come back? I'm just a girl. They wouldn't do anything, as they had too much beer to remember it anyway. However, what if…?

I couldn't bear to continue worrying. If they did anything, it wouldn't be tonight at least. Sliding my jacket over my arms and shoulders, I took my purse and exited the establishment. The night was dark and everyone else had already left other than Bill. I set off towards my lonely looking Jeep when a soft crunch alerted me from behind.

Spinning around, I caught a glimpse of a gray hooded George and his friend carrying baseball bats next to the door that I had exited. George's jaw was set and his friend continued to grin idiotically at me exposing his rotten yellow teeth. Without another beat or another thought, I turned and took off towards the loud chattering of the boardwalk with the loud yells of the men following right behind me. My Jeep could not have started quick enough to escape these men.

Darting through alleyways, streets, cars, and growing size of the crowd, I found that despite George's beer-belly and old age, he could still gain on me. Maybe I had overestimated myself or maybe I had underestimated him; either way I still pumped my legs as hard as I could while wheezing in my mouth due to the lack of exercise. Though I dodged well, I noticed their luck of not having many people in their path. I was making a path for them!

While my waitressing abilities served me well, they did not save me from my fate. After running for about four blocks and hearing their close footsteps closing in, a large hand pushed me solidly into a tacky yellow plastic table. The side of the table caught me right in the gut, forcing the air out of me while I tripped with the table head first to the gravel sidewalk.

I would like to tell you that from then on I went commando and scary after that behind-the-back move. I would like to tell you that they ran away scared witless from my dragon like fighting prowess. I would also like to tell you that I inspired the nation everywhere that women were creatures to be reckoned with just like men. I can't lie to you though.

My face was crushed and grinded across the asphalt, immediately causing me to scream. Fire like pain sprouted from my lips, cheeks, eyebrow, and forehead. I tried to lift myself up to my feet, but foot kicked me in my stomach. Wind left me as I flew up and hit the ground again. Blood started to drip down my face and George grabbed my neck before throwing me through the glass doors of some random shop.

The pressure of hitting the door bruised my face, but falling on the broken shards of glass elicited another tortured scream. So this is what it felt like to get battered? I cried out while turning over to further stop the glass from slicing through my skin. My eyes opened to see a foot swinging toward my face. I tried to spin away from it, but it still clipped my nose and cheek sending me flipping over face down.

Blood entered my mouth and I spat out the foul liquid. Hands seized my upper arms and I was hauled off the ground roughly. The world swam in front of my dazed eyes, glancing uncarefully at George's flying fist. White burst in my eyesight, and it went dark for a moment but the pain knocked me awake. My face was butchered and bleeding down my neck, wetting my plain black work shirt.

I was lying on the ground limply gazing up at the de-fogging world in front of me. George and his friend were not beating me to a pulp anymore. Their big forms dwarfed a smaller guy seemingly standing up for me. With George and his friend occupied, I conspicuously propped myself up against the counter. I was too weak and in pain to move anywhere else.

"Why don't you go blow each other? We all know that is what you red-neck hillbilly's do every night for fun, other than cow-tipping," the guy suggested with a wry and cocky voice. He apparently had a death wish. "You know what? I think I know why you are needle-dicks. Your mama's were too drunk while getting knocked up to know just who the hell was screwing them."

George's friend snarled before throwing his fist at the young blonde's face. The blonde caught his hand easily and smirked crookedly at the man's belligerent face. The young blonde quickly shoved the man in the chest before ducking George's baseball bat. George's friend unexpectedly flew outside the shattered glass doors, which was a good eight feet. When he recovered, the blonde stranger was ducking and dodging the swinging bat.

After another unsuccessful swing, the stranger grabbed hold of the bat and swung George around as if he weighed nothing, and crashed him into his friend. They toppled on top of each other, but quickly sprang up to charge at the waiting man.

"Come on! Is this it?!!!" He delightfully laughed as he dodged both of them too easily from their lunge. He jumped over their diving bodies to an impressive height and whirled around to see them looking up at him baffled at his remarkable talent. Many in the indiscernible crowd behind clapped and whistled at this feat. I stared dumbly at the growing cockiness of the laughing stranger, whilst he unknowing stopped paying attention to the angry men behind him by bowing to the pleased crowd. The pair took up their bats and quickly moved to the stranger, while swinging in synchrony at his head.

"Duck!" I managed to choke out. Once again, I was not sure if I was seeing properly. The stranger automatically leaned forward while the bats in unison hit both men respectably in the face, knocking them unconscious. The crowd roared in satisfaction and that's when I noticed that the crowd was full of young punks and teenagers. A young girl with sandy blonde hair and dressed scantily in a tight red dress dashed up to the stranger and bathed him in praises.

"OH Paul! I knew you could do it! You saved that girl's life. You are positively the nicest guy ever," she gushed at the glowing stranger while he slung his arm around her shoulders.

"I did what I had to do to help," he replied lazily before glancing at me. The light must have caught his face at the right moment, because he struck me dumb. His hair was teased to a hellish level, sticking up in all directions just like a rocker. He had a small but long nose and laughing eyes paired with a crooked smile permanently plastered on his face. Without the leather, ripped clothes, and jewelry, he had an angelic and joyous face. Simply put, he was a strapping young man.

"You're not going to leave her there, are you?" A kid from the crowd asked. The stranger paused before looking like he wanted to smack the guy in the face. The girl in his company apparently thought that it was also a good idea.

"She's right! You should take her to the hospital. She looks like she still needs you," she glanced at my gashed and damaged form before staring expectantly up at my rescuer. He paused in a moment of indecision, but sighed heavily before turning to me. The girl and my rescuer walked to me before he crouched down to my eye level.

His twinkling blue eyes danced still with mischief, but he himself was resigned to help me instead of hooking up with his babe.

"I can't stand to see this. I'll see you later Paul!" The girl disappeared into the crowd and away from Paul's disbelieving face.

"You don't have to help me," I whispered at him, groaning internally at the ripping it was causing at my lips. Paul glanced back at me before his face broke out into a blinding grin.

"Of course I have to. Look at you! You look like you got skinned alive by the Russian mob or something. Your face is the coolest looking disgusting mess of a thing that I have seen in a long time," he replied brightly. I frowned, but ended up groaning weakly at making my lips bleed more. So that is the first thing that my rescuer say's to me? How funny is it that I survive an attack like this, only to be called that. Great, I'm never going to be able to show my face again without some sort of plastic surgery to correct it.

"Um… thank you?" Paul's grin decidedly became broader.

"You are very welcome Frankenstein. Can I assist you to the hospital, Ms. Trashed Beyond Belief," he asked while still insulting me. I nodded softly, careful as to not move any possible broken bones in my spine or neck. Deftly picking me up bridal style, he cautiously did not touch or move any injured areas and somehow walked without jarring my body.

I was very grateful for him distracting me from the pain. His shirt was indeed curious as it was ripped up stylish in the front, exposing his almost hairless chest and slightly defined body. I stared unabashedly, wondering how he got the courage to pull off such an outfit. The chains swayed and clanked letting me know that we were moving despite that I couldn't feel it.

"See anything you like," he smirked at me in the corner of his eye. If it wasn't for the injuries to my face, I would have flushed. Instead I chose the safer route, I shook my head lightly.

"I'm not into little boys," I shot back before realizing that it slipped out. Horrified, I closed my eyes waiting to land on my bruised back but then I heard a short and gruff laugh. Opening my eyes, Paul was fully dedicating his attention on to me. The scruff on his face was very noticeable, along with the slight makeup lining his eyes.

"You got a mouth girl. Is that why they did this to you?" I nodded again, but Paul was not satisfied. "What did ya do? Call them assholes or somethin'?" I tried to remember what exactly that I had said, but found that I could not recall.

"I don't remember exactly. I just turned one of them down on a date," I whispered to him hoping to make as little movement with my growing swollen mouth. Paul's face pinched, clearly portraying his disgust.

"Those guys are a little old to be hitting on you, don'cha think?" I nodded before letting my eyes drift shut. My little strength was leaving me and sleep sounded very appetizing. Paul wouldn't have any of it.

"Hey Miss-I-Was-Mauled-By-A-Tiger-In-The-Face! You stay awake now. I am missing some good sex so that I can take you to the hospital, you better stay awake. Or I'm dropping you," my eyes snapped open when my body detected the support give way a bit. My grip around him tightened.

"Good sex? You look mediocre, at best," I grumpily snapped while the grin came back to his face. Apparently, sex was one of his favorite subjects.

"What? You're just jealous. I don't blame you though. I am a lot to handle, and to have me carry you must really hurt your inner lusting thoughts," he dramatically claimed. The laugh in his voice, must have brainwashed me because my comfort with him had already past everyone that I had met over the last two years in Santa Carla. Never before had I touched and been this close to another person, and this was only casual conversation between two strangers. He didn't even want to help me at first. He wanted only to make a good impression on another girl. Still, I did not mind that he did not really care for me. His pleasant looks and company kept the pain off my mind.

"I would rather make love to a tree," I responded while trying not to smile with him.

"No, you wouldn't," he knowingly added and I secretly agreed.

"Well, at least that way I wouldn't get any unknown disease that you probably carry," I poked back. Paul stiffened and abruptly stopped walking to glance down at me.

"SHE SAID THAT IT WAS BETWEEN US," Paul whispered disbelievingly at me with a white face. My happiness faded into the seriousness of Paul's eyes. My mouth opened to reply but my voice failed me. What could I say? I sure as hell didn't know!

The moment stood still in time stiffly, before the sides of Paul's lips began to twitch and gradually became a unique cross between a pained smile and a frown. His laugh shook me out of my mortification and into a cross of relief and anger. I could not decide whether or not to hit him or laugh as hard as he was. Paul was clearly around to have a good time and nothing else mattered. It did not matter that he was crying with a crazed laughter in front of a curious and disturbed crowd.

When Paul finally recovered, we had already reached the Santa Clara Penn-Brookes Hospital emergency room door.

"So… maybe I should stay with you until the doctors are done?" He asked me politely and I nodded giving my consent. Paul strode through the doors and into another group of curious on-lookers and placed me carefully on a chair. He walked back to the nurse at the front desk and started speaking rapidly to her, while her eyes strayed to my ruined form. Most of the people in the room tried to discretely check me out, but they did not turn the magazine pages that were in their grasp. Their looks were curious and disgusted by me. Somehow I was reduced to a dissected bug.

"You all can stop staring!" Paul's voice startled everyone in the room, while he sent stern gazes at my on-lookers. Grateful at his intervention, I tried to smile at him but it sent my mind reeling from the pain.

"You okay," he asked as I leaned over in my chair. Vomiting was still a bad idea.

"I tried to smile," I replied breathily. The pain started to overcome me again. My face was in an orchestra of pain and it was playing notes that I could not describe other than to say it felt as if I had burnt or crushed what was left of it.

"Rate the pain," a light and airy voice asked above me. I did not recognize who it was, but I guessed it was a nurse.

"Bad to worse," I replied while trying to keep the nausea down. Paul's hand softly touched my shoulder.

"Relax," Paul told me. "You look like road-kill."

"Well you smell funny," I said while sniffing the air. In reality, he smelt like weed, grease, and some other strong odor that I could not identify.

"At least I still have a face," he shot back at me. He had me there.

"Okay, the doctor can see you now. But first I'm going to give you a shot of morphine. Are you allergic to anything," the nurse questioned. I shook my head and felt a pinch in my shoulder forcing me to cringe. Once done, Paul helped me into the wheelchair and together we followed the nurse through the fluorescent lighted hallways. I ignored my surroundings and focused on Paul. The growing high started to clear my head of the pain. Why was Paul still here?

I must have asked him, because his eyes glimpsed back at my own.

"Like I told you before: you look like a science project gone horribly wrong," he answered cheerily. Apparently, Paul enjoyed teasing. The next moments of walking and rolling were making my head feel funny along with my face. Paul frequently had to smack my hands away from touching my face. I was _only_ curious.

We entered a room and continued to fight over me touching my face. I really wanted to feel it!

"Would you stop that," Paul demanded from me. His disgruntled face was a big change from the usual happiness. I paused, but decided that touching my face was more interesting than listening to him. So I shook my head honestly while he sighed back at me. Out of nowhere, the nurse returned with what looked like straps of death in her hands.

"Restrain her please," the black nurse with red poisonous lips of death told Paul. Before I knew it, and with a little bit of a struggle, Paul and the nurse had safely restraint me. The claws of the straps made me very panicky. My harsh breaths and nervous movement signaled to Paul of my distress.

Paul's hands lightly came across my shoulders and he leaned his face so that we stared at each other. "Calm down," he ordered and my heart beat stopped thumping so harshly. My tight chest also disappeared miraculously. Why did I feel safe, even when I was tied up by two strangers?

"This must be her! Hello, I'm Dr. Stephens and I'm here to…" his voice died off and I glanced up at him from Paul's eye-catching eyes, and noticed his mouth wide open. "Oh… Wow." This is my doctor? Paul silently began to giggle.

"I told you so," he managed to say to me before turning away to laugh quietly. The doctor threw his clipboard at the nurse before pushing Paul away to exam my face. He quickly turned to put on his latex gloves and other contraptions that I had no clue of. When he returned, he had tweezers and he moved to touch my face. This was the time where pain forced me to pass out.

I swallowed. Oh… I'm awake now. My eyes opened very slightly and the bright light made me cringe. Suddenly, I felt straps all around my body, _trapping_ me. I had forgotten where and why I was there. My struggle became violent and panicked.

"Help," I screamed before my lips cracked and I felt the pain return to my mouth along with my blood. Twisting in my binds, I clawed until a felt a rush of wind and the voice of someone familiar.

"Hey! What are you doing there? Not gonna claw until your fingers bleed I hope," a wry voice stilled me. My eyes reopened but the light forced them shut. The pangs of my bruises and in my face brought up my memories.

"Paul?" I asked softly, hoping that I hadn't imagined everything.

"What," he responded and my fears of going insane were shot down.

"Tell her that she needs to calm down if she's going to have this x-ray," a male voice called out.

"Did you hear that?" I nodded and settled into the stiff board of the bed. After a several minutes, I was set free and Paul and I went to the original room.

"How long was I out," I asked with a frown on my gauze-wrapped face covered with a padded mask. I did not realize that it was on until I sat down. I barely felt it at all!

"You screamed bloody murder when he tried to scrap some of the gravel out of your face. After passing out, the good ol' doc fixed up your face and everything. He wanted to take some x-ray's to make sure your head is still intact," Paul lazily added while propping his feet on the chair next to me. This was the part where I swallowed long and hard.

"I can't pay for all of this," I muttered lifting my hands up to my head, covering the eye holes of my fake face. A gruff and short laugh met my ears.

"What are you talking about paying? You are not paying," Paul replied. I lifted my questioning eyes to meet his, but the guy had lit a cigarette. He was smoking in a hospital!

"Are you stupid," I addressed him directly. Paul paused and glanced at me. "Put that out." Paul took another drag while raising his hands in the air in mock surrender. When he dropped the cigarette to the floor, the doctor entered. He paused lightly to smile at me, but sent a glare to a twitching Paul.

"You are very lucky miss. We found no structural damage to your bones in your face. There is a bit of a concussion, but that is light considering the extensive damage to your face," he paused taking in my lack of a reaction. "I'm sure you already know and understand the magnitude of your… situation. The skin on your face has been mostly ripped and ruptured mostly around the cheeks, lips, eyebrows and on the right side of your forehead.

The skin itself is in layers. Your top layer has been destroyed, including the middle layer that usually replaces the top. Luckily, the very bottom layer is pretty much intact. To correct the destroyed flesh, you are going to have to wear that insulation mask to keep bacteria and air from bothering the new flesh that is growing and repairing. I hate to tell you this, but I did the best I could to keep the area clear and smooth. However… you may need cosmetic surgery after the skin is repaired," the doctor concluded while I sat in a stony silence.

"I can give you powerful pain killers to stop the pain that you will be in the coming months, but the mask must stay on until I can give you the green light. You must return to the hospital to keep the bindings clean every week. You cannot clean your face yourself, do you understand?"

I nodded, but felt coming annoyance at returning to this hospital every week for months. Paul seemed to be starting to fall asleep as his eyes were shut. There was nothing more boring than to listen to a doctor.

"Here's the medication. Take one every 5 hours as needed, and I will see you next week." I wanted to fake smile in thanks, but the mask made me only nod.

"Yay! We're done, so let's go," Paul popped up unexpectedly from his chair and yanked me out the door. I had to rush to keep up with his quick pace. Once outside, I noticed the light sky.

"What's the time," I pondered aloud.

"About 6 in the morning. Do you want a ride," he asked me in front of a dirt bike, which I assumed was his. I knew know nothing of bikes or cars.

"To my car at Bill's Diner, please." The next few minutes were spent me trying to hold on to him while keeping my eyes shut, so as to not get sick at the extremely fast pace that Paul was keeping. I did not ask why he rushed. I was only happy that he had helped me for this long.

Stopping in front of my Jeep, Paul turned to me with a grin on his face.

"Will you be able to make it from here," he questioned me and I nodded while gingerly getting off of his bike.

"Thank you so much for helping. I really-"

"Don't worry about it. If you want to pay me back, tell me your name," he asserted. I did not expect this as a reply.

"Ana," I simply said. This time I received a true smile, one that was not crooked.

"See you 'round Ana!" He gunned it past me and down the street leaving me once again alone.

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If you want me to feel appreciated as a writer or you feel like I need some feedback (which I do) then please review. Suggestions on the storyline may influence me. Thanks for reading!


	4. Faceless

Hey guys... I should let you all know that I am studying abroad in Jordan right now and the internet is extremely slow while I'm extremely busy. I don't know what this means for timely updates, but we'll see. My thanks to all the feedback including the criticism. I am going to give you an official author's warning: do not trust Ana's POV all the time. She is very wrong sometimes.

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An itch that you can't scratch is, what I have concluded, the worst pain in the world. It tickled and tricked my entire face. The blossoming spidery web like sensations made my body cringe and twitch at random and completely inopportune moments. There was no way I could scratch it as the mask and bindings were solidly in place. To do so would risk infection and a hell of a lot more pain, not that I cared right now. I needed relief! The nerve endings seemed to be on the mend, but I could feel every little change taking place behind my mask.

This is how I have felt for the past three days. It started as soon as got back to my house. The world could kiss my ass right now because everything seemed to be centered on my itchy face. Once I had been told that there was nothing worse than having some sort of pain on your head. They're right! I could not stop rubbing the outside of the mask, hoping somehow I could scratch the area bothering me. It was of no use; I could rub the mask all I wanted and it would not budge.

You would think that they would have a cream for this, but the good ol' Dr. Stephens told me that it would impede the healing process and it could irreversibly damage the new skin. A few times I caught myself saying 'Fuck it! I don't care', but I could envision both of my parents giving me a pointed stare. I refrained with great difficultly.

The doctor didn't warn me about this. The moment I woke up the next morning, all of the drugs that he had pumped me with had worn off. I tried to take a conservative amount of the painkillers at first that he had prescribed so that I wouldn't spend more money on refills, but I found that the 'Pain of the Itch' was too much to bear. I am a little ashamed to say that I took three pills for every two that I was supposed to take.

As I entered Bills, I watched the chubby Marie double-take as she filled our grubby saltshakers. Marie's mouth opened and then she coughed suspiciously hiding her smile and laugh. At least I didn't eat obsessively, bitch!

Hurrying away as I punched in my timecard, I tried to not open my mouth and make my situation at the diner worse. I peered around the room taking in the gaping mouths and hiding waitresses. Ignoring them, I skirted around the flabbergasted oily dishwasher and walked out into the serving area.

Bill also paused while counting cash next to our out of date register, before completely disregarding my mask. He hired me because of my strong work ethic, and I was a valuable asset to his establishment. Most of the others messed around in the back. At least he had the decency to let me escape notice. Other than my fellow co-workers, not one of my patrons insulted, laughed, or hit on me. Of course they were terribly uncomfortable having me serve them without a face to look at, but they seemed to have felt some sort of sympathy for my problem. The most I got all day was of an old man exclaiming, "What the hell happ…" before he was cut off by his embarrassed wife.

On my bathroom break, it took me longer than usual to leave the mirror. I, for the first time, stared back at my reflection. Before, I never really glanced at my face and could hardly recall what I looked like. Of course, I knew what I looked like! But I didn't really know. My smooth blank black mask held no recognizable features. The eyeholes were half circles with the curve facing upward, there were two small slits for the nose and a half inch open rectangle opening for my mouth. My green eyes glittered uneasily behind the mask as I inspected. My lips were still healing from the ripped skin and it was unsettling to look at. I turned away in annoyance and self-pity. I was going to have to get used to this.

As I served throughout the night, I couldn't but help to let my thoughts drift to Paul. If I still had a face, I would have blushed. He was dashing and even though not educated, he was sharp and witty. It was hard to find a good sparring partner around here. In high school, I had one partner and her name was Lori-Ann Goodwin. She too was sharp, and thoroughly enjoyed our jaunts. It is a shame that it is all I have to remember her by. Just a buddy to trade insults with, not as an actual friend. She died just last summer from some freak accident involving a motor boat.

What made me recall her was that Paul had the same swagger that she held, but only he was a male and attractive. He was helpful at least, and interesting. Recalling the incident involving the cigarette made me shake my head as I refilled some Pepsi's, but I appreciated his uncaring attitude. Paul did exactly what he wanted to do and that was completely unlike me.

Speaking of which, how in the world was I not charged by the hospital? They always make sure they bill, but they somehow forgot. Not that I would remind them (I didn't have the money anyway), but it was unheard for them to not bill. And how did Paul get them to do that for me? Did he know someone? Or maybe he threatened them? That couldn't have worked though. He was just a street punk. Paul must have known someone; it is the only logical conclusion. Hospitals just don't forget or make a mistake like that period.

Him having a connection also explained the fast service that I received. Santa Carla was known for their slow admission in the emergency room. It was so well known that even I, with no health care, wouldn't go there if I had the choice.

Another thing however couldn't be explained. Why hadn't I had to fill out any forms or other evaluations? You know the kinds that ask about your allergies, medications, and history. It is incredibly dangerous and unprofessional for a hospital to do that. Shouldn't I report them to somewhere?

_Like where, Ana?_

I nearly frowned before remembering my destroyed face. Goddamn it! This was going to be a rough few months ahead of me. Speaking of which, my face was by far my biggest problem.

Would I be like the Elephant Man? Would children run screaming away from the mere sight of my face? It was a sure bet that my face would forever be scarred from the beating that I took. People would set me apart now by the sight of me. Already, I noticed my co-workers taking subtle digs at me, and the uncomfortable avoidance of my customers made me grateful at their lack of pinching but attentive to their discomfort. They clearly were curious about my face, but no one was brave enough to ask, both too polite and uncomfortable about my face. I could understand the Elephant Man's plight. I am now not only an outcast socially, but it would be set in stone by my face.

Just as I began to feel sorry for myself, I was reminded of the banter between Paul and me. Even if I never caught Paul's eye the way that I would like to (not like the red-dressed girl), I could allow myself to hope for a tentative friendship. A friendship based on quips, not humps. He at least, saw no problem in a friendly jibe. Since Lori-Ann, I had given up on any sort of human contact. The world appeared a little brighter despite my predicament.

Sally and I were the last waitresses to leave for the night. Tiffany sung Sally's name from her new Honda, and Sally delightedly whooped before running to the car. The fiery red-head Sally had been the only waitress to not snicker or react at my mask for the entire night, excluding her double-take and Bill. I reminded myself that she was the only reasonable human-being among my co-workers. They drove off basking in each others gossip and collective giggles, fully planning on attending some bonfire party.

Left horribly alone and paranoid since my attack, I booked it to my Jeep and peeled out of the lot while cursing Sally for not having the consideration of walking me to my car. My destination was the boardwalk where Chico's Café was located. It was the only coffee shop still open at this time at night. The drive was quiet and safe, but when I neared the boardwalk the crowd picked up along with the traffic.

I must have had hundreds of double-takes that night, along with stares and pointing going on. I did my best to ignore, but who am I kidding? I felt self-conscious about it. Parking in the full lot away, I leapt out of my car and purposefully strode into the crowd. Doing whatever I could to distract myself from the looks, I counted light bulbs on the arcade, and that's when I noticed the neon-colored missing posters. I even stopped and read a few.

Jesus! How many of them are there? Hundreds must have lined the walls of the boardwalk. How could I not have noticed? I mean, I always knew that many went missing, but this much? All of those families waiting to hear back from their loved ones, but never getting another phone call from them again provoked an unusual emotional response. I was sick with compassion. The oldest poster (at least on the top layer) was dated from 1960, and it said that the woman was still in the area and also claimed she needed psychiatric care. The pattern was astounding. Maybe that's why the police are so horribly behind on things? Perhaps I shouldn't judge the police force so harshly…

Nah! Those bastards could do better.

Reaching the coffee shop, I dropped my train of thought just like every Santa Carlan and bought my coffee. It was quick, and I left sipping my hot and milky coffee through my hole. The movement of drinking was awkward and I was sorely tempted to get a straw, but I wouldn't suffer the indignity. I lost myself in the flow of the crowd back to my car.

"You Miss," I heard a rugged whisper from my right. I paused, which was highly unusual because it took a lot to stop me on the boardwalk full of solicitors, bums and runaways, and glanced at an equally rugged old woman's face. Her face was weathered, sunken, and cracked from old age. Obviously she had seen a hard life, and was capable of living to an even greater age. She was gypsy and an obvious fortune-teller. With black bushy hair, she was wrapped in a hole-ridden and frayed purple shawl covering her entire body. Her long droopy earlopes were pierced with gold and she wore many gold and silver bracelets. What a cliché!

"You must sit and talk with me, your destiny is calling me," she demanded while turning to a young woman who had the same black bushy hair that pulled out a chair for her. I paused, before shaking my head and walking off without a word. I did not stop to turn around to see their expressions, but I did hear more demands from the woman using the same line on some poor paranoid woman.

Dodging the crowd, I sharply turned left into the parking lot when a firm hand gripped my arm back behind me. "Where do you think you're going?" A hot voice demanded as he roughly turned me around. I raised my fist ready to strike when I realized it was a grinning Paul. I froze as his grin widened. If my heart had no beat, it certainly had one now. Even my toes were warmer.

Oh, no… OH NO! I have a _crush_. How utterly... Humiliating.

"Aren't you happy to see me an' all," Paul gloated. I paused before being completely embarrassed at myself. How could I like him? I didn't even know him. He was clearly unwashed, unclean, and utterly unlike myself. No goals, no education, and a clear disregard for the law. "Uh… Hello? You in there, Ana," Paul waved his hand in front of me when I snapped out of my inner defense. I was determined to not like him. But oh, the way he said my name…

"You sure you're not a bit rattled up there or somethin'," Paul continued motioning to his head, while my inner shiver stopped.

"Fuck off," I muttered before turning away. Paul grabbed my arm again, forcing me to stop and turn to him. His eyes were confused, but determined to speak to me. Didn't he get it? Or was he just plain stupid. Did I have to physically push him away?

"You alright," he asked, cocking his head to the side. It was so adorable that I stiffened visibly, trying to stop myself from melting, and looked away from him. Paul let go off my arm and awkwardly stared. "Well, I'm sorry I bothered you. Just wanted to give you this," he reached into his pocket and pulled out a black and red lettered slim cylinder. It was pepper spray. I glanced back up to his diverted eyes and realized how really sweet this guy was. He appeared to have a shy visage of a disappointed cute little boy. But then again… I knew better. He was trying to manipulate me. Only… _I am so stupid._

It worked.

"Oh… Um…" I sputtered unintelligibly and witnessed Paul brighten in hope. I couldn't disappoint him, and I suddenly my decision was made, no way of going back now. "Thank you, I had no idea you would do this for me…"

"Of course! Couldn't leave you defenseless. Besides, this will help you if any monsters decide to attack and I am not there to protect you damsel in distress," he snickered. Immediately, I huffed in an equally childlike fit.

"I am no damsel."

"Uh… yeah, I guess you're right," he scratched his chin with the pepper spray in hand, ignoring my antics. "Otherwise, you would be the beauty and not the beast," he remarked dryly, when his glittering blue eyes met mine. Oh… a _challenge_. This is the time that I cracked my proverbial knuckles.

"I would have been the beauty, if you weren't for your bad timing _hero_," I shot back.

"Let's just say that I like to take my time," he replied breathily. His eyes danced with life and I felt a twitch at my own lips.

"Well, that's not what I heard," I let a sort of smirk filter through my voice. "I hear that taking your time is so impossible that a few seconds is all that it takes," I whispered in a mock secret. His nose crinkled at the thought.

"Would you like to find out," he offered slyly, stepping directly into my personal space. My body flared high in temperature at his offer, but I couldn't play this particular game with him. I had no experience.

"Just give me the pepper spray," I changed the subject quickly. He grinned at his undeclared victory before stepping back a couple feet.

"Ok,"and without warning he pitched the pepper spray four feet above my head that I didn't even think, but only reacted. Springing up, I caught it perfectly in my hand. Landing, I nearly pumped up my fist in triumph when I spied Paul's hanging jaw. His eyes stared at me in amazement and what I could only describe as suspiciousness.

"What the _hell_ was that," he remarked with furrowed eyebrows. I paused before feeling uncomfortable. He eyed me with mistrust, and something akin to looking a freak. I hated those looks; I had received enough today for a lifetime.

"Oh that was just me being awesome," I hurriedly said while trying to maintain my self-assured air and hide my discomfort.

"Did you… How did you…" He blubbered and I realized he wouldn't let it go if I played it off that way.

"Oh, forget it," I cut him off before retreating into the parking lot. Of course, Paul didn't know when to stop.

"Hey! What was that? Shouldn't you be bed ridden or somethin'…"

"I said, 'FORGET IT'," I forcefully supplied while glancing at him following me. He stopped dead and did not follow.

The ride home was a quiet one until an unsettling thought entered my mind which was the reason for Paul's reaction.

Why was my body not in pain?


	5. The Lost Boys

To a casual observer Sally Henderson was a polite and honest girl. She was always on time and never cursed or smoked. She could wait on the sloppiest and most horrendous customers and still pull off a disarmingly pure smile. Sally lived with her parents and went to Santa Carla High with impressive grades. Her composure was something to value in an environment where everyone wears their emotions on their sleeves. Sally had a life ahead of her unlike the rest of us working at Bill's. I heard she was accepted into Georgetown University and fully planned on attending. If anyone could have left it would have been her. I was glad for her, if not a bit jealous.

Like any other busy night at Bill's, we were all working hap-hazardly, but there was one exception on that night. Earlier that day, the little red dented phone rang in the back and I, the only one remotely close to it, reluctantly answered.

"Hello, this is Bill's Diner. How can I help you," I asked in monotone while picking the dirt underneath my nails.

"Hey, Ana. It's Sally. I wanted to call to tell you that I'm not going to be able to make it in tonight. I got a bad case of the flu," I heard her cough in the background. She sounded very apologetic and genuine, so I didn't question her excuse.

"Ok. Get better," I replied in rare sincerity. We had needed her to get better. Any night short of a waitress was like missing an arm or limb. It was that night that I was the last person to speak to her, and the following morning she was noticed missing when her parents called Bill's.

I am thoroughly used to people disappearing. One night someone's at a party and the next gone. This time with _Sally_… With all the people in the world, Sally Henderson disappeared! It unsettled me. She, who was supposed to be a goody-two shoe, should be at home in bed. Now, she had been reduced to another missing poster on the boardwalk's walls.

After many questions and accusations of the so called police officers, they could only let me off the hook. I was at work all night and according to her drug addicted parents, she left the house around 10 at night in the guise of picking up medicine. The authorities chalked it up to running away. It happened all of the time in Santa Carla (despite its own share of runaways) and she did have an unstable home life. With the entire crime rate in Santa Carla, the police hardly had the time to track a simple runaway girl.

I knew Sally didn't runaway. She had an awaiting future, what could be the point of leaving now? What the hell happened? Where was she? Nothing had made sense, so something bad had to have happened.

A little over a week later, Sally's body was discovered in the San Diego bay. I heard that the cause of death was blood loss, not drowning. Nobody at work talked about her thereafter. No one who lives here talks about the disappearances. It's a subject never approached as if some curse was set on any who would dare speak out. Santa Carla was funny about that. I must have fallen under the same spell; I only ever thought about it. Not that I make casual conversation often, I just never brought it up even though I think about it occasionally.

It was the crashing lurch of the bus that dragged me back to the world. My Jeep had decided to mysteriously break down again, another reason to not go to work. The dense and brightly colored crowd moved vigorously in and out of the entrance of the boardwalk. Most were young adults and teenagers, but a few punks lingered in the front. I gathered my purse and exited the body-odorous bus and into the smoking crowd, pushing and shoving my way to get through.

"One night," said my boss. Only one night off, to live and try to relax. It was ironic that I had to work to even get onto the boardwalk and then the beach.

I made my way onto the main avenue and continued to dodge the purse thieves and screaming children. The rancorous smell of body-odor and corn-dogs filled my delicate nose. I made it all the way to the entrance way of the beach when I caught a glimpse of Tiffany Swanson's sobbing, surrounded by the rest of her equally upset girlfriends. Their loud cries could have awoken the dead! Many in the crowd sent the girls disapproving and irritated looks, but no one stopped to ask if they were alright.

I paused in a moment of indecision, before turning to them and hesitantly walking over. I have never been good with leaving people to wallow in misery.

Stopping a few feet away, I began to have second thoughts when the brightest clothed of the girls glanced at me.

"Did… did… you know… Sal-sal-salleeeee!?" Her high-pitched voice broke and cracked horribly on Sally's name, and her mascara ran dreadfully down her face. It was nearly comically to see their similar stained faces.

Tiffany herself peaked at me through her puffy lashes and with no warning, launched herself from one crying girl to my shoulder. I was temporarily knocked off balance and stiffened when she clutched at my favorite buttoned plaid shirt. What the hell?

I guess I can't really tell her to get off, can I?

Awkwardly, I patted her back as she hiccupped something unintelligible at me. I even felt her tears start to dampen my clothes. How should I get her off of me? Should I try to make an excuse? Should I pretend to be as sad as her and then run off? I could-

I loud roar made me jump to my left and I narrowly missed two motorcycles tearing down the dodging crowd. Tiffany had disentangled from me, but clutched her heaving chest as she bleary looked after the two distant whooping blonds. It happened so quickly that I didn't even have time to feel scared, just dumbfounded and a little angry at nearly being hit.

"Why aren't they sad too," Tiffany whispered so softly that I only just heard her. I glanced at her and realized that these were the same guys at the gas station. Twice now these guys have nearly killed me!

"Why are they so happy?!" Tiffany surprisingly demanded and her brown eyes filled with incense. Tiffany took off after the loud chorus of bikes and escaped my hands that were going to stop her. The crowd immediately cloaked her escape and I began to follow the irate and grieving girl (thus stupid), but another pair of hands gripped my elbow, effectively stopping me. Turning, I took in the sight of one of the more composed compadres of Tiffany. She was another light blond beach girl with many freckles dotting her face because of her tacky dark brown tan. Now this was girl who was going to have (if not already) skin cancer. She immediately let go almost as if I burned her and stared after Tiffany.

"Don't try. You would only get sucked in with her mess that she's going to make with the Lost Boys," she commented in a tight voice.

….

Huh?

"What do you mean Lost Boys?... Who are they? A band," I asked. The girl immediately shot me an "Are you an idiot?" and disbelieving look. Her small face and button nose crinkled unhappily and unattractively

It's nice to see that grief can easily be swept aside and be replaced by pure annoyance at someone's social ignorance.

"Have you been living under a rock? Marko, Dwayne, Paul, and David are the _Lost Boys_. They're the ones causing the security here so much trouble. You know!- the ones that race almost every weekend on Maggie Street and fight with the Surf Nazi's like every night. For God's sakes, Clarissa dropped out of community college for them," the girl ranted to me and I paused. A deep feeling in the pit of my stomach surfaced and uneasiness filled me. The only connection I could make was centered on one crazy attractive humored man.

"Does Paul look like Twisted Sister," I asked quietly. The girl stared at me before sighing and rolling her drooping eyes. To her this was so obvious that it should have been written in law. Obvious to everyone, everyone but me that is. She had completely forgotten about her grief as I had about Tiffany.

"Yeahhh. He's the one that's funny and actually spends some time with the girls around here," she paused as I froze. The girl with no name elaborated some more as I took it all in, "The Lost Boys are a gang. They go to the best parties. Paul is the one that dances on the tables and breaks everything in sight. It's really funny to watch," she giggled exposing her metallic brace-filled teeth. "Betty here tried to hook up with him but he was eyeing Mary Gibson at the time. Paul really doesn't care too much who he's hooking up with as long as he has someone cute looking. But um... Yeah- they ride their bikes, get in pretty cool fights. David's the leader- you know the lightest blonde one with uh… unique voice... Dwayne is the one-"

"Have they been to jail ever," I cut in before she could continue. Without another beat and apparently pleased with my participation in the conversation and her own social importance, she answered.

"Well- I don't know." I glanced back at the crowd hoping to see Paul magically appear in his usual fashion. "They can be really nice. They put the Surf Nazi's in their place. Did you know…"

"Excuse me," I cut her off again without looking at her and took off after Tiffany.

The crowd was rough, especially when I caught a young boy sandy-blond staring at me open mouthed while his mother (in horror) dragged him away (from me). I was merely trying to push my way through the crowd and had gotten stuck between a bunch of giggling 13 year old girls and the Surf Nazi's hijinks at Doug's Dogs. The kid was stuck right there too! It's not like I chose the spot…

Once again, I pushed and shoved through the crowd. After ten minutes of it, I began to give up. However, a loud sobbing caught my ears and I turned back around to follow it. Scrambling up a few stairs, I witnessed Tiffany clutch at a blond curly haired man as he pushed her away from him and taking off on his bike after his friend. Completely ignoring the two guys, I watched Tiffany's reaction.

The world crushed Tiffany. Her body swung around completely unaware of the world, but lost somewhere in her own broken mind. Rushing, I took her by her elbow and tugged gently, trying to pry her lost and graying eyes. Lines that have never been present suddenly appeared around her mouth and eyes. The young-vibrant and annoying Tiffany had aged an extra ten years. Tiffany was not one for disillusionment. Not acknowledging me, she pulled away from me and quietly walked off bumping into individuals like she had never seen them. I watched her retreat until I couldn't see her golden hair anymore.

Fuck. I guess their friendship was that strong. I have never felt that level of camaraderie that would drive me to a deep depression that Tiffany had definitely fell in. Whatever those guys said or did, it took away all of Tiffany's healthy grieving. Wow. I can't believe Paul's friends are such assholes.

I sighed deeply before rethinking that last statement. I **can** believe that they were his friends. It seemed fitting. As much as I liked Paul, there was so much that I didn't know about him.

The rest of the night passed me by in a haze. I was too focused on Tiffany's quivering lips and lifeless eyes to enjoy my night off. Adding in the implication that Paul might actually be bad for me, I was a jumbled mess on the inside. I joylessly wandered the boardwalk. As much as I wanted to 'run into' Paul for the whole night, I didn't. What was I going to do with Paul? His friends were assholes, and I bet it wasn't much of stretch to include him in that assessment.

And the Lost Boys… why did that sound so familiar? It was on the tip of my mind, but nothing came out of me mulling it over and over again.

My next night of work wasn't any better. The idea of Paul being a bastard bothered me beyond belief. I probably scared him off too! Paul had been kind to me, so why should I pass judgment on him simply because he associated with assholes? If I kept this up, I really would be an island onto myself.

I wanted to pinch the bridge of my nose, but the fucking mask wouldn't let me. I was giving myself one hell of a headache. Sighing deeply, I leaned against a wall and closed my eyes in a brief respite.

"Dearie… you alright," a sweet and old voice asked from my right as a soft hand touched my shoulder. My eyes cracked open to see Bill's mother Gertrude.

Gertrude was a rare flower, and despite her son's profession she had managed to be not only a nice woman, but high on the Santa Clara society totem pole. On Saturday nights like these, Gertrude would come in and make the beef tenderloin preparations because of the sheer volume of orders that we would receive. Otherwise, she came in on Sunday days to eat a light lunch before church. I would have usually faked a smile for her, but the mask prevented it. Gertrude was still dressed in the 50's garb, including the bright red lipstick and thick pink blush washed out her pale wrinkled face.

"I'm fine," I replied faintly.

"You better be, 'cause no one here will pick up yur tables," Sydney took a pass at me as she sashayed to the line. _Fuck you too._

"Ignore her, dear... I have an idea! You should come to Santa Carla's Masquerade Ball. I have the perfect dress that you can wear! Come before the official ceremonies begin and I will fix you up," Gertrude offered crinkling her beautifully weathered smile on me. "And I'll let you in free," she whispered conspiratorially. The masquerade was guaranteed to be full of everything that I hated.

_You realize she's trying to be nice, Ana. _

"Thank you, Mrs. Stein. But I'm going to have to pass," I apologetically said. Gertrude frowned at me before smiling again.

"Well, I'll bring the dress anyway, just in case. The door will be open for you hun," Gertrude added patting my arm.

"ORDER'S UP ANA," Andy, our cook, hollered at me and I scuttled to take the hot plate from him.

My shift passed by in blur as it usually does. Once off, I gathered my things and ignored the digs coming from my coworkers and hurried out the front door into one of the strangest scenes of my life that I was sure to never forget.

It was Paul and a boom box blaring so loudly that I wondered why I didn't hear the music inside. Paul was trying to dance to 'Sweet Home Alabama' by Lynard Skynard in the middle of the parking lot next to his parked bike. It was loud and the beat was desirable after my hard night. Paul's hips swung playfully shaking his butt with his arms around him in a circle holding a lit cigarette and taping his boots in some strange dance. His face was focused and happy. I sighed. _You only live once._

I dropped my bag and he looked up from his feet with a playful smile knowing it was me. Joining hands, we danced together, swinging, dipping, and fox trotting without reservation. I knew he wouldn't judge me. So, I would sashay and he would shake his hips in such a way that would make me laugh so hard my lungs could have burst and my face hurt like the fifth circle of hell in Dante's Inferno.

I let go of him, and decided to find the strength to sing the words as loud as I could. When he joined in, the moment transformed us both into proud Alabamians.

"Sweet home Alabama! The one I'm coming home to!" We let go of each other and danced in circles while closing our eyes. The air was warm and I knew Paul forgave and forgot about what I had done, if he even remembered. A sigh escaped me and all my pent up tension left.

The world felt okay for once.

Opening my eyes, Paul was still tapping his foot with his eyes closed and smoking what was left of his cigarette. This was pure bliss. I had a friend. I once again shut my eyes, lifted my hands into the air and spun in a circle. I spun and spun and spun. Something like freedom and happiness encompassed me. Tiffany's sobering face was far away and I for once enjoyed my life.

"You wanna go steal some coke from da gangbangers at the 711 on Clark," Paul asked out of nowhere and I abruptly stopped. Swinging to him, my mouth was wide open, but I wasn't sure I heard correctly. "Is that a yes?" I paused cocking my head. How could it be a yes? "You know I can't tell with that mask in the way," Paul remarked and I shook off my undercurrent of upset. He couldn't read minds (or my face).

"PAUL," I barely begun as he innocently stared right back at me. "Why do you want to risk your life over coke," I quizzed.

"Wha'? It could be funny," he replied shrugging nonchant.

"Ya know what? Why don't you go try and I'll watch and be your look out."

"Okay! Lessgo," Paul clapped once and ran to his bike. I froze before deciding to follow. This would be interesting to witness.

As it turned out, the kids had stopped going to that corner to sell. Paul was particularly unhappy, but got over it in the span of a minute.

As the days passed by, every night Paul met me from outside my work. I was always greeted by some good song to loosen me up and throw my worries away. Also, Paul's routine was perfect. We would run around the boardwalk for an hour or two and I would attempt to keep him out of too much trouble.

…_Too much trouble? He tried to jump over a moving vehicle to prove that he could! _

Paul must have been a terror when he was a kid.

_He still is a kid._

At least, he knew how to cheer me up and I would always be given a bike ride back to my Jeep. Paul's hooting and hollering was beginning to rub off on me, and on occasion I would do the same. I always left satisfied and eager for another night spent with him.

Sometimes I found myself admiring him too often and imagining a relationship. It felt like one. It was always me and Paul spending time together. I could see that Paul did regard me differently than the other girls. I could also tell that he liked me in some ways, but the mask made all the difference in the world.

The mask had forced Paul to not see me as his potential girl, but as a girl that he enjoyed running around town with. I really hated this thing! I had already considered the mask as a symbol for the end of my normalcy. Now, it prevented the one relationship that I considered in wanting to have.

It was during our time together, that I learned about Paul's other friends. Paul would hint without my prying. Remarking that a guy called David would like to think that he was "bad to the bone", Dwayne was a "stubborn pain in the ass", and Marko was "simply impossible to beat at thumb war".

It had been almost 2 weeks of an established routine, when I excitedly exited Bill's and wasn't greeted by a dancing Paul. I paused, taken aback by the empty and silenced lot. I was horribly at a loss and a little unnerved. Where was he? Maybe something…

"Hey you, scary girl!" Relieved, I turned to glare at Paul and prepared to chew him out when I noticed the two guys following close behind him. My comeback froze on my lips before I started to get a little angry. _Really… you couldn't give me ANY warning, could you Paul?!_

I didn't know that he was going to bring… them! Instinctually, I knew these were his friends: the Lost Boys. Really- I shouldn't be surprised. This was Paul's style and it was obvious that I would eventually meet them. I had to accept that by hanging out with Paul meant that I would have to associate with the rest of his friends.

One had a boyish lean physique. His blonde and long curly hair was familiar, and I flashed back to the time that he had pushed Tiffany away from him like some useless animal. So this was the bitch that had taken Tiffany's innocence? I hated him without reservation. His lips were quirked in an awful presumptive smirk that set me on fire. The hair was girlish, but the swagger in his walk was at ease and sure of his own manhood. His jacket was quite a tragic ensemble, and I felt like sending a blow to his sense of masculinity by asking if he was gay.

The other one was what one would call 'tall dark and handsome'. He didn't wear a shirt, showing off his perfectly sculpted body. While Paul was a bit lanky, the dark one was every bit of a man should be. He possessed no presumptive gait but silently observed me with his dark brown intelligent eyes. His leather jacket was open letting my eyes slide over his physique unabashedly. I couldn't be sure, but he looked Native-American which would explain his exotic face and the cool looking tooth earring.

"I would like you to meet Marko…" Paul pointed to the girl pretending to be a man, "and Dwayne," Paul pointing to the dark one. Dwayne? Well- that's an unusual name for someone as exotic as him. "This is Scarface…" Instinctively, my hand shot out and hit him upside the head. "I mean- the beautiful Ana," Paul amended while rubbing his head and giving me a mischievous look.

"Nice intro," I muttered noticing his grinning blonde friend and a blank Dwayne.

"Wha'?" Paul asked while opening his arms.

"You guys aren't _willingly_ his friends, are you," I snidely asserted. The blonde, to my great annoyance, openly snickered but Dwayne barely twitched lips. Paul sent me an incredulous glare.

"S'cuse me, but…"

"We most definitely were blackmailed," Marko replied, cutting Paul off from his rant.

"Money was involved," Dwayne added. Paul began to get red in the face.

"A lot of money," Marko concluded while I felt myself warm at the help that I was receiving from his friends.

"Marko- we both know that you couldn't find a decent girl without my help. And Dwayne… you…you…"

"Backstabber?" Dwayne supplied with curiosity.

"Ye-ah!" Paul replied breathlessly. This was funny. It was almost like Paul was off his game.

"Paul- the only decent girls that you find are of… loose quality anyway," I added. Marko gazed at me appreciatively.

"When exactly have you eva helped me find a girl," Marko quizzically questioned quirking his eyebrow. Paul opened his mouth and nothing came out.

"A speechless Paul? Now, I've seen everything," a strange voice crept over me and goose-bumbs overtook my arms. A rotten wind blew and some breath left me catching sight of the man walking out of the darkened alley next to Bill's and the abandoned office building.

Stepping into the light of the parking lot, the stranger was completely colorless and in stark contrast to the rest of the boys. Clothed in a black trench and pants (even his hands were covered in black leather gloves) and bleached white-blonde spiked mullet, the man flicked the ash off his burning cigarette. His skin was as pale as his diverted blue eyes, but over a week's worth of a beard grew around his cheeks and pointed mouth. The color of his beard was not the same as his hair. It was more of a gold-blonde and not white.

I knew who he was immediately. This was Paul's leader: David.

_David_… The name fit.

David's eyes did not meet my own but stared at Paul expectantly. The air around him reeked of something… devious and self-assured. It could have been the random wind, but I could feel something naturally be drawn from deep inside of me. I was intrigued. I could sense a vibrant history, partially because of the medallion shaped cross pined on his coat. David's pull was different than the boys, and I could see in his demeanor why he was the leader. In his unique and wicked way, he held a dangerous lure that I didn't dare admit.

"Fuck you, David," Paul snapped at David's amused face, who was taking his last drag from the cigarette.

"This is David, Ana. David, this is Ana," Dwayne politely and quietly introduced taking up Paul's responsibility. David glanced up from squishing his cigarette with his boot to look at me for the first time. My eyes averted immediately and my posture tensed. Something was off. I couldn't name it, but I consciously moved toward a frowning Paul and declined to meet his eyes.

"Pleasure," David nodded to me in my peripherals, while I nodded back.

"So… who's hungry," Marko asked, breaking the awkward first meeting that we were experiencing. The boys virtually smirked at once and I felt out of the loop. Paul's little temper tantrum lifted and he perked up.

"I am," Paul replied quickly. Dwayne nodded and David shrugged. The boys glanced to me at once and I froze.

"I could eat." The words tumbled out of my mouth.

"Where to then," Marko asked at me.

"How 'bout McDee's," Paul suggested hopefully -_Thank God!-_ while the boys together as a whole groaned in disgust.

"We've been there how many times in the last month? In the last week? Dude- lets go to China House," Marko proposed. David lightly chuckled shaking his head.

"You're forgetting Paul's… fiasco with the Asian waitress," David pointed out while sending Paul an amused and indulgent glance. The boys once again sighed exasperatedly and I glanced at Paul curiously. Paul almost looked sheepish, but he shrugged instead. "We can't go back any time soon."

"Jesus- Paul, I think slappin' her ass when her parents are standin' a few feet away wasn't a great idea," Marko chuckled. Paul smirked, but forced it to down (but not even the slightest bit successful) when he met my eyes.

"He's had worse," Dwayne chipped in and I whole-heartedly agree. Paul and fully formed thoughts don't mesh well. It usually spelled disaster.

"Well… where we gonna eat then," Paul drawled and Marko shrugged. "McDee's it is!" Shrugging, the guys strolled out the parking lot and David retreated into the alleyway. Paul motioned for me to follow. Glancing at the vanished Neo-Nazi, I wondered why he wasn't going with the rest of us, but I doubt that I would have ever gotten an answer. The guys didn't even glance twice at his exit.

Paul slung his arm around my shoulders making me turn away from the alley and casually hummed some Jimi Hendrix song. With no other option, I observed the two guys strolling in front of me. Marko swung his left arm while his right was perfectly stationary and his bejeweled jacket twinkled in the passing shops light. Dwayne was silent despite feeding off of Marko's careless swagger, but I soon realized why he was in the gang.

Dwayne, at first, would smack every sign that we passed as hard as he could, making a really ugly noise that I would jump at without fail, receiving congratulations from the other two. He found my reaction extremely funny, and even more so when on occasion, he would walk right into a busy intersection, forcing cars to stop unexpectedly and honk their horns nearly causing serious accidents. He would even turn in the MIDDLE of a crosswalk while ignoring the traffic, and beckon us to follow with a grin. The only reason Paul didn't was because of my death grip.

Marko had decided to be a bit tamer by jumping on benches, walking across them. At this point, I assumed Marko would have manners and not jump on a bench with a couple occupying it. However, I was mistaken when we came upon one such coupleb and he continued to step across their shocked faces and bodies. A slew of curses followed us. Paul was surprisingly tame and sent the couple a middle-finger in reply. The boy's responding laughter was mockingly loud, boisterous, and rowdy.

"Hey! Marko, ya got any bud," Paul yelled uncaringly and I elbowed him in the side, making him flinch but not move away from me. He turned to me and once again gave me an indulgent glance. "I mean… gum." Marko turned back to us with another smirk and walked backward. Marko's eyes were very big and open taking in Paul and then me.

"Nah… Fresh out," Marko snickered and whipped back around, chuckling lightly. Paul opened his mouth, but Marko cut him off, "Dwayne too." I snorted at Paul's crestfallen face. "But I'm pretty sure David's holdin' what was left from las' night," Marko amended. I frowned, and twitched when it irritated my healing skin.

"Yea-ahhh," Paul celebrated skipping a step while dragging me with him. Turning to me, he grinned again without reservation. "Chill out gurl! It's just gum. Nothing_ illegal_ about that." Marko ahead of me sniggered then covered it with a lousy cough.

"Well, you couldn't make it anymore obvious, can you," I rolled my eyes. Paul's eyes twinkled.

"Yes, he can," Marko chirped jumping from one bench to another.

We strolled past busy Broadway and the ever congested Luther St. There were many pedestrians and the Lost Boys took the opportunity to act out Moses parting of the Red Sea. Girls giggled and eyed them appraisingly, men ignored and or scuttled out the way. As many nasty looks that they got, they also were bathed in adoration. I watched the traffic as well, observing many slowing cars that passed by. What the fuck? Were they legends or something?

"Why didn't you ride to come get me like you always do," I asked Paul. Paul didn't answer as he was busy staring at a brunette slowly licking her ice cream while giving him a cheap 'come-hither' gaze. I forced him to continue our pace by latching onto his shoulder, but he didn't turn away from her. _One track mind, I swear._

"Well… Paul wanted to walk," Marko answered in Paul's stead. My hands warmed up and I was exasperated. I wasn't asking him. Marko continued to stare back at me and grin, showing me his perfect teeth and a bobbing curl in the middle of his forehead. His lack of attention should have awarded him many run-in's with the other pedestrians, but because of their renown everyone moved out of the way. My eyes narrowed. I really didn't like this.

Apparently, neither did another dude who grabbed Marko's unsuspecting jacket. The light walk was finished, as was Paul's winks to the chick from afar. Dwayne did not move, but he tensed ready for action and Paul's arm slide off my shoulders moving in front of me.

The guy holding Marko wore a dark blue and white high school jacket though it had been clear that he had long since left those days behind him. His beard was thick and auburn and his gnarly eyebrows were in an angry expression. A crowd in the restaurant next to us stood from their chairs in the inside and pressed their ugly faces at the windows.

"Marko…" the man began in a quiet anger, but he couldn't seem to hold the rage at bay any longer. The man literally exploded. "What the fuck man?! After everythin' that I've done! …I'm gonna lose my license! It's the **only thing** I got!!! And you sold me out to the fucking Cha-cho's! Those fucking compadres will SKULL FUCK me in my sleep. Do you have ANY IDEA what I am going to lose?" The man shook Marko, pulling him into the man's red face. Marko was still, unsurprised, and uncaring.

"Wilson. If you don't let go of my jacket, one of my brothers will make you," Marko murmured in a chilling voice. Wilson didn't budge. "And they _will_ get blood on my jacket, so… This is somethin' both you and I don't want." Wilson's face didn't alter, but he violently pushed Marko away after a pause and a curl of his lips. Moments passed, but Marko and Wilson stared each other in a silent battle of wills.

"I want compensation and my license," Wilson growlingly demanded. Paul snorted.

"Yur gonna have to take that up with David," Marko returned calmly. Wilson's nostrils flared. His eyes glanced back to Paul and my frozen body, as if weighing his options. "My brothers won't do business with you, so don't even try," Marko snapped.

"Then tell him I wanna see him before the end of the week. You know where to find me," Wilson growled. Marko nodded genteelly and Wilson stalked past without another word. The boys turned and watched him slink off into the gawking crowd.

"He might be trouble for us later," Paul declared in a tight voice that I had never heard before. I stared at Paul's wondrous expression. His face was siren and his blue eyes were dancing in a different fire that I didn't understand. The smile that spread across his features was also clouding any of my insight of him, along with the lick of his lips.

"David gets to decide what to do with him… Besides, I'm wondering why we listened to you about walking in the first place," Marko replied. My eyes wondered to the brightly colored sign of McDonalds only a block away.

"'cause I'm convincin'," Paul challenged in a drawl.

"For a slut, maybe," Marko mentioned.

"You're sayin' that you're a slut, ya know," Paul countered in a snicker and had to stop the coming playful argument that Paul (and I bet Marko) would not drop for the entire night.

"_Uh-hemmm._ Guys… McDee's is right over there," I pointed out and they followed my lead. I left a grinning Paul behind, but Marko decided to walk with me to my great displeasure. I ignored his prying eyes on my masked face.

"Where you from," Marko asked. I started and tensed.

"Why do you ask," I dodged the question, suspicious and alert.

"I assume that you're a runaway, right?" We were so close to McDonald's and I would be free to move away from him without suspicion.

"You know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and…"

"What the fuck!" Paul broke in, pushing past me and Marko. He stood in front a packed McDonalds, in what looked like a child's birthday party. I liked kids, but inside was a mess. Kids were running everywhere, while parents congregated in a small section to the side. One fat little boy with short blond spiked hair had the gall to purposefully tap a lady waiting in line and throw up all over her flower print dress. The boys and I were eyeing the crowd in disbelief.

"A fucking nightmare," Paul muttered to himself.

"Come on! Let's order quickly," Marko suggested.

"Why can't we go somewhere else," I questioned and stilled when Marko and Dwayne looked to me.

"'cause we're waiting for David…"

"Who has been waiting on you," a voice piped up behind me and I jerked away from it. David ignored me out right, while a giggling Paul smacked me roughly on my shoulder blade.

"Gurl! You're waaaaayyy too jumpy," Paul chortled.

Addressing the boys, David motioned to two sketchy guys waiting outside, "Boys, introduce yourselves." Huh? Paul won't leave me…

_OH MY GOD… he's fucking leaving me!_ Paul gave me a toothy smile and made to follow Marko and Dwayne. I grabbed a hold of Paul's jacket. I wasn't- in no way- going to stay with David. Fuck. That.

"You and David find a table. I'll be right back," Paul smiled at me, rapidly changing my mind. However, I couldn't fight the despair and coldness fill me as I realized that I was left alone with David. Great! Just when I could escape Marko, I get traded to David with no Paul to serve as a buffer.

Without a word, David stalked past me into the building and toward a miraculous empty (but still trash filled) booth. David sat and I followed quietly. This was strange.

David glanced around the room and I did the same, but suddenly I felt his eyes on my mask and I couldn't help but for the first time meet his eyes. I was slapped in the face.

His eyes did not sparkle. They possessed an **impossible blackness** despite their light ice blue hue. I could not comprehend the nothingness shinning back at me. The eyes were not judging or harsh, but mocking the world. My mother once said that the eyes were a way of looking into someone's soul. David's eyes did not give you glimpse. His were so ambiguous that the secrets inside could hold me captive in my curiosity. I am not sure how long a stared into his eyes but I had a gut feeling- the kind that you get on a roller-coaster when it suddenly and unexpectedly drops- that he was assessing my own green orbs as thoroughly as I. When I realized my discomfort, I broke eye contact first.

"So… Do you come here often," I asked while gesturing to the horribly bright restaurant filled with screaming and running children. To anyone else, it would have been a disgustingly mundane question. However, his eyebrows arched while his eyes finally grasped who I am and not regarding me as he would everyone else. It was a reaction of slight surprise, assuming that he was not used to normal small talk. It made sense; he intimidated many and was hardly ever seen not causing trouble. The simplest of tasks for his group of friends, such as walking down the street, was next to impossible in attracting attention.

"No," was his monotone answer. It was amazing how little reaction that I could pick up from him.

"Why not?" His eyes flickered ever so slightly to me without having to meet my gaze.

"Marko or Paul usually come here to pick up the food. I avoid children," he replied while deciding to stretch his limbs across the booth and under the table.

"What kinds of food do you guys like to eat," I asked searching desperately for a question to ask to keep the conversation running smoothly. David glanced back at me while his head was turned and, if it was possible, his eyes became deeper and mischievous.

"All kinds."

I had no idea how to respond, but I did so anyway. "So… um, how old are you? Do you go to school?" The questions were fired quickly in my nervous need to keep things running smoothly. I couldn't let there be silence between us. Silence from him was deafening and threatening. I preferred his creepy voice to fill the void.

"I'm 21. I haven't gone to school since I was 18," he supplied while beginning to stare intensely at me, daring me to ask another personal question. _Like that was going to stop me._

"So you didn't go to college? Where's your family," I politely inquired.

His eyebrow quirked and he slightly paused before he answering, "My family couldn't stay together, so I left. College… isn't for me." Wow… those were honest and reasonable answers, despite some vagueness. I had a feeling that I would not get a lot of those from him.

"So, your family fought a lot? Why did you come to Santa Carla then?"

"This is a runaway city. Perfect for someone like me," he answered while lightly scanning the crowd in the restaurant.

"Is your family looking for you?" His eyes flickered back to mine and I felt some of my breath involuntary leave me. His eyes could paralyze a fly.

I think he knew it too.

"They are not my family anymore." I paused while collecting my thoughts. This conversation was rapidly spinning out of my control and comfort level. I needed something lighter.

"Paul, Dwayne, and Marko are your family now? I don't know how I feel about Paul though. I would drop him from family to pet status if I were you," I inwardly smiled at my fondness for Paul and let the conversation warm. David did not award me with a smile, but his features somehow lightened, even after a few startling seconds of him continuing to stare. I doubted if he had ever truly smiled. Reaching into the pocket of his trench, he pulled out a battered carton of cigarettes and lighter.

"You can have him if you want. I'll sell him for a good meal at Bill's," he remarked while smirking victoriously while tapping out a cigarette out of its carton and lighting it. I paused before realizing that Paul had told him about me. I swallowed hard, uncomfortable at the thought. I should have realized sooner, but in some weird way it flattered and disturbed me that I was a subject of conversation with Paul's friends.

"Paul is not worth that much. Maybe a pair of my old sockets might be a deal," I grinned painfully at David and I choose to let some of my tension evaporate.

"Deal," he agreed while nodding and slipping off his black glove. David's pale skin contrasted pearly white against the bright red table. His hand open and across the table, I slipped my own sweaty palms across my shorts before grasping his hand. At first I noticed the clear lack of warmth of his hand before something clenched in my chest.

I let go quickly and abruptly. The good feelings were gone. I did not want to chit-chat anymore with him or even bother to make an excuse. Standing up, I watched his curious eyes observe but not stop me as I swept off into the dangerous crowd. Dodging as many children as I could, I left David cold in his seat and headed for the exit.

"Where do ya think yur goin'?" Someone grabbed my arm and I was jerked around to see Paul frowning with cute perk on his lips. I momentarily melted in my mind and shook myself out of my day dreams (involving me just throwing caution to the wind).

"I'm… I'm just going to go, ok?" I asked him feeling ruffled at my sudden fear of David and my own strong feelings of attraction at Paul. As his face fell, my hand twitched wanting to reach up and touch his sharp cheek bones. I clenched my hands into fists to resist.

"Oh… Um. Ok. Did he… ah… _scare_ you off," Paul questioned sheepishly and I glanced over at the smoking David who stared creepily at us both, still completely at ease despite his surroundings. _What a creep._

"No," I determinedly answered while sending a small unnoticed glare at David. "But I have to go anyway. I will see you tomorrow after work, kay?"

"Sure," he smiled at me. Letting myself not glow in Paul's light for too long, I let my feet walk me out the door.

What am I doing? Snap out of it! I have to let this go. He is not the kind of guy to ever hope for a stabile relationship. Regardless, logically it was a bad idea for me to get involved with a… ladies man when I have never even had a man. That one date with Alex was enough dates to last me a lifetime. The disaster could have been avoided if I had been honest about his character.

So what was Paul's character?

I knew Paul had a habit of making people feel what he wanted them to feel. I doubt that he was 100% honest with me, but his personality could never be faked or curbed as he didn't have that level of self-control. He did what he wanted to do, including people. He was uncaring, obtuse, magnificent, annoying, and probably a great kisser…

Ah- fuck! He sleeps with anyone, Ana! Feeling an inner anger at myself and a little directed at Paul, I felt some of my infatuation of Paul dissipate a bit. Not to mention, I had a flickering feeling that he set me up to be alone with David. What was the purpose, though?

If David was anything, he was without a doubt charismatic. He didn't need to speak because his eyes said a lot more and yet told you nothing at all. Somehow he had managed to infuriate me like Paul. David was a leader of the Lost Boys gang and seemed like the right kind of person to run it. He was cold, calculating, charming, and frightening. I could tell David was an all or nothing kind of man, who would potentially do anything to win.

Marko didn't seem too bad, I admit. However, my suspiciousness of his character would not leave me. Tiffany's heartbreak was still too vivid for me to let go. Paul and Marko were also very close I could also tell. Actually, they all were close enough to be mistaken as brothers despite their lack in a shared appearance.

As I settled into my white down comforter, my thoughts lingered on the Lost Boys and I suddenly realized why the name was so familiar to me. Could that be a Peter-Pan reference? The Lost Boys are... _Runaways_. They never grow old- _never grow up._

Of course, that would be Paul.

I smiled at the thought, as I feel asleep.

* * *

Reminder: Leave a review, and I will answer almost any questions or confusion that you may have. Thanks for reading!


	6. This is Gonna Kill You

The crowd was dense, but I was frantic, pushing and shoving. Everything was quiet, but I searched and fought through the cloud of smoke and the tight throngs of people suffocated me. The harder I fought the further I was from my goal. I found myself crying out in frustration and on the verge of tears. _What am I doing?_

The thought overtook me at the same time someone merciless shoved me hard in the chest. I fell to the floor winded and unaware. I choked while people rushed past, and I foolishly grabbed at their legs hoping for someone to stop. I called for help and I still heard nothing. As I hyperventilated, each breath constricting my lungs and throat, the passing crowd mocked me. Their faces were the only things clear. Their grotesque and demonic nature made me scurry away as they leaned closer. Eyes made of fire and an envious green laughed and spat at me. Anxiety nailed me to the floor. The world swirled and I clutched the ground, unsure whether it would leave me too.

The ground however, did not disappear. Black boots stepped into my blurry vision while I reached out attaching myself to them in hysterical hope for reprieve. My eyes traveled up the black clothed torso to unnerving blue eyes dousing my growing relief. Fear sobered me when I realized who it was.

It is a strange sensation to have my own screaming wake me. The orange light of midday filtered through my window as I heard a lawnmower echoing in the distance. My sweat dribbled down the sides of my mask as I griped my comforter around me. Lowering my trembling self back onto my pillow, I let go and took in a deep breath. My dreams were gaining intensity every day. This time with David… Despite how hot my room was, I shivered as something chilled me on the inside.

Climbing out of bed, I did the necessary motions getting ready to leave my little apartment. Today was the day I received fresh bandages. I wondered why they weren't billing me. Hospitals treat and then bill a person; that's the way it has always worked.

It took four tries to get my Jeep started and when I got to the hospital I strolled in and out in less than hour. The appointment left a bad taste in my mouth and my back had tensed immeasurably. The nurse had gasped when she strolled in, leaving quickly and without a word. The good doctor ignored the incident and supplied nonchalant that I would need plastic surgery.

As I left my mind drifted to a realization. It was during the sinking black moment when a male nurse bumped into me. Startled, I was pulled from my thoughts and looked into the nurse's eyes to apologize, but my lips froze with my words hanging off my tongue. He too, froze after a curious moment of trying to place me.

It was the same man that grabbed Marko. What was his name? The moment of clarity sent me mumbling a quick apology before swiftly retreating. His face twisted in confusion, I was gone before he came to the same conclusion as I. It was an awkwardness I could not afford. I felt my body sway unsteadily with every step I took. The lonely outlook of my life was something I would never want to face. I shoved it into the darkest recesses of my mind and I focused on the man that Paul knew.

Searching desperately for a name, I could feel my hysterical nature surface and in the nick of time, I remembered his name. Wilson. What the hell would the Lost Boys want with a nurse?

Slowly and step by step, I asked myself what Wilson had that benefited the boys. He could fudge medical records and... get someone like me to pay for free. It made perfect sense. The guys were, technically, a gang. Maybe they needed a connection in the hospital here, because of the fights they probably got themselves in on a daily basis, or maybe for easy drug access. Who knows?

Driving back home, my thoughts on Wilson slowly receded and my conversation with my doctor returned. My hands went cold and white clutching the steering wheel and deep inside my chest I felt something break and tear making me heave out breaths. Clarity eluded me as a tear leaked out of my eye. Shortly followed by another. And then, a horrid sob was choked out. This single sob caused more to surface. The dame that had been built for years broke, and I was beside myself. Pulling over blindly to the side of the road and into the dirt, I sobbed into my steering wheel, not bothering to turn off the car.

I shook as each vicious hiccup assaulted me. I sputtered in my own flowing tears. Why couldn't I just blend in?

I heard the weak beep of my Jeep's horn as my head forcefully hit it hard. I grinded my head into the wheel, body spasming. I was drowning.

Down... down... down... into the deep abyss where I felt no bottom and no safety but the constant sinking blackness. I sunk. I had no hope for rising above the undercurrent. I shook my head as the pressure built in my forehead. It was dark and the pressure was intense. Something had a hold of my feet, dragging me deeper and deeper into the ink of anguish.

Here I had no solace. No comfort... I chose this life because it was easier to be alone. I wanted no one and I thought I could do this alone. My parents had no clue about me anymore. Not their fault. Not their mess. I am a woman and I trapped myself. My flippant remarks pushed everyone away and now...

_Wasn't this what I wanted?_

I was freezing in 76 degree weather. I shivered as the sobs stopped, but the tears kept coming. My eyes were blind and raw. Probably the reddest and puffiest they have ever been and they ached with my head. My bandages inside my mask were soggy from the tears, leaving me uncomfortably itchy.

Breathe. Another Breath. Each one burned. I pulled back onto the road and focused on the blinding yellow lines of the road as they flashed past. A dull throb echoed in my head and I started to cringe.

The day flashed before me and suddenly I was at work pouring a cup of coffee. I had been next to silent all day. My coworkers stared at me as I silently sighed and poured. My hand shook as I put the pot back on the burner. My chest was still tight, but I picked up my tray and delivered the drinks before taking their orders.

My coworkers dodged me tonight. This was a first. A cloud hung over my defeated shoulders and I felt like slipping away into the night, losing myself in the surf of the ocean.

The night wore on and thankfully my shift was spent by 10. Slowly, I exited with the wind catching my hair and blocking my view. I hurriedly swept it behind my ear and suddenly I caught the headlights of five motorcycles rushing toward the parking lot. Paul was of course in the lead with a cheeky grin with his friends close behind. The other unknown rider was another blonde with a square jaw and hard eyes and a severe frown.

The engines died except for the unknown's.

"Hey," Paul greeted me, while I eyed him.

"You know, I think I will never understand how you know exactly when I get off of work," I replied. Dwayne for a split second grinned behind Paul.

"Yep," Paul readily agreed. My eyes clearly drifted to the rude biker behind Dwayne and I returned my expectant gaze to Paul.

"Jake- if you don't turn off your bike, I will break it," David spoke in a good natured voice as he took a hit from a rolled joint. I quickly glanced at Jake, who scowled as he killed the engine. Now surrounded in silence, I fidgeted with my hands.

"What you doing tonight, Ana?" Marko asked, not Paul.

"I'm going home-"

"NOPE! You're coming with us," Paul interrupted.

"Ummmm... Lemme see... No," I snapped before continuing to my car.

"Ahhhh! Come on! Come out with me and the boyzzz," Paul suggested while trailing his words. I paused and glared.

"So I can watch Dwayne nearly get hit by a car or have you desert me again? Ugh, no thank you," I huffed. Paul and Marko leapt off their bikes and blocked my path to my car.

"Come on!"

"It's not like we are going through town again-"

"We are going to the clubs!"

"What clubs would let you underage guys in," I fired back.

"We have our ways..." Paul grinned.

"We have a few connections..."

I glanced from one boy to the other before stealing a look at the other three bored bikers behind me. Considering how nice I felt not thinking or remaining on the subject of my lost cause, I started to waiver in my resolve. On one hand, I could have a self-pity party or a party to drink away my pains and pretend that nothing is wrong.

"After, we are hitting a sweet house party-"

"Where there is GOING to be a ton of hot and ready girls-"

"Dude, she's not interested in that," Marko interjected flabbergasted.

"Yeah dude, but I am so looking forward-"

"ANYWAY, it's going to be wild and I guarantee that you won't be left out or fearing for Dwayne's life..." Paul snickered while glancing at Dwayne behind me whose eyebrow quirked. "Besides, Paul won't abandon you tonight," Marko declared to me while Paul stared at him put out.

"But!-"

"Molly will always be available man, besides we gotta show Ana a good time, right Ana?" Both turned their attention to me. All those blue eyes staring into my own just screamed, _Peer pressure's a bitch, ain't it?_ Having no choice in disappointing Paul, and even a little bit of Marko (whom began smirking), I nodded with a sigh. Paul cheered and I felt my day lighten up a bit.

"Here we go!" Marko ran to his bike as the others started to rev up, and I tried to grab my car, but Paul snatched my hand and forcibly dragged me to his bike. The other guys did not bother to wait and had taken off in a furious pace that even Paul had not dared to do with me.

"Paul! I'm still wearing my work clothes," I objected and he started his bike, while I slide on behind him.

"It won't matter. Hold on," he warned a split second before he took off in a maddening jerk. I cursed his name as he laughed at me.

Maybe I hadn't noticed it, or maybe I just enjoyed being this close to Paul, but we had magically caught up to the others. They daringly darted around corners and did not bother to stop for stop-signs nor stop-lights. I screamed at Paul the first time, but I knew that I was the farthest thing from his mind right now. The guys whooped and screeched, cutting each other off. The only one not participating was Jake. He continued to focus on the wet road glistening from the streetlights and did not seem to give a shit for much else.

David suddenly drifted in front of the bike and Paul had to swerve unsteadily to avoid getting hit. My grip tightened unimaginably and I felt my heart drop. Too scared to even properly react with a scream, Paul laughed and then growled gunning it to David, who was giving both of us an amused backward look. Every time Paul tried pass, David would swerve in front or try to "nudge" us to the side. Each attempt David's eyes would look into mine specifically, trying to test my limits. I held myself in check. Since this guy feeds on reactions, I won't give him the satisfaction.

After what seemed like the twentieth time, they stop and we made our way down Culters Avenue towards Santa Clara's clubs. Slowing, the boys pulled into the lot next to The U and I glared at the offensive line of staring people. Their puffed up, teased, hair-sprayed, curled, side-ponytails, and gel made me cringe. The scene reeked of false bravado and mind-numbing self-advertisement. I was appalled yet not so surprised that they brought me here in my work clothes. I would never get in with brown cords and a black crew neck shirt.

Climbing off their bikes, I made this thought known as the crowd gawked at the boys. The boys ignored my comment and I glared at them in annoyance. The boys wore their usual dark colors with an odd tear here and there. Jake had a dark green utility shirt that was frayed on the ends and his attitude bubbled over because his eyes swept and licked the line of girls with an aggression that was disturbing to behold. Marko had somehow managed to coax a girl to his side with one finger. She had dark brown hair with a well placed highlight around her face. She smirked and flirted as he kissed her knuckles.

The wind played with my hair, blowing the long strands into my face. The others moved past me in a show of leather jackets and tough-guy attitude that I was a bit of ashamed to have arrived with. Paul may have the usual fucking-around strut, but had the determined don't-fuck-me walk like the others. I felt others eyes suddenly, each one of the girls assessed me in an ugly look. The men would comment about my appearance and would then laugh. The girls would "berate" the guys, but they too fought their own laughter. I began to freeze up.

_Too much too soon_. How could I ever do this?

Just as I was about to bolt and become just a memory of the night, David glanced over his shoulder as he walked and gave me the shit-eating and expectant look. He challenged me with a grin and a glint in his eyes, daring me to follow. I felt fire and boldness in my blood. I could not hide despite any good reason I might have. My relationship with Paul was reliant on my ability to handle his gang. No pussying out.

Unglued, I found myself moving quickly with the boys to the front of the line. The crowd watched in dubious envy as they let us in. The bouncers eyed me in curiosity but did not linger. My appearance wasn't even a question!

Hell- I could use a drink now.

Paul started to do his funky dance-walk with a fist pumping into the air to the vibrating base. The club was below us with a large glowing green bar and green lights shining upwards on the walls. There were black curtains covering the private sections were friends gathered and drank around their table. Mirrors were located on the ceiling making the club seem bigger than it was.

Dwayne laughed at the kissing faces Marko and his girl were making before smacking Marko's ass as hard as he could before quickly running down the stairs and into the thick crowd. Marko looked around murderously before being overtaken by a boisterous and dancing Paul. Paul successfully separated the love-birds and left me behind with a stalking Jake and observant David. David motioned with his pointer and middle-finger over his shoulder to follow him. We obediently followed and entered the crowd. At first, the crowd parted before us and soon it closed in.

Effectively in a couple of moments, I had lost Jake and David. Girls would dance and if they just so happened to see my mask their eyes would widen and they would freeze or misstep. The crowd started to notice and surround me. I tried to keep walking, but the more I fought to get through, the more they noticed and said unpleasant things.

A girl with a bright yellow and green dress had her eyes closed so she did not see me try to move past. She continued to do a butt shimmy and as she swirled around she lost her footing. Her eyes opened.

"OH MY DEAR GOD…" She exclaimed as the crowd laughed at her horrified reaction. I exhaled harshly and pushed past her into more staring eyes.

"What the hell…"

"Is this a joke?"

"Ummmm… ok?"

The comments picked my ears and my fragile self-confidence. My shoulders suddenly felt heavy and a pain blossomed in my head. Everything swam around me and the spaces in between filled with a fog further disorienting me. My mask became an ugly visage for the monstrous creature beneath.

Enter Paul. "YO! Ana!" Paul on top of the bar, a bartender looking particularly angered, with Marko and Dwayne dogging two bouncers was the situation that greeted me. I felt the crowd lose interest in me for a brief moment, only to feel their surprise as I made my way to the rowdy gang. Paul had somehow managed to knick a bottle of whiskey and now was liberally giving shots to any girl who passed his way. He laughed and shook off the bartender as she attempted to snatch the liquor back. A whiskey over rocks was being nourished by David and without turning away from Paul's performance, he held out a single shot towards me.

No questions, I just let the liquid pleasantly burn its way down my throat and warm my body. I squelched the cough in my throat and sat heavily next to David who had yet to look at me. Paul leapt into the crowd nimbly with Dwayne immediately swiping the bottle. "Hey!" Paul lunged and Dwayne danced away chugging what he could. Next to me a man was pushed off his stool, giving Dwayne room to sit happily while pouring me another shot. A slight grin twinkled back as he lifted the bottle back to his lips.

"Cheers," he murmured taking a sip as I rushed to down my own. The extra fire burned through me again. My fingers and toes warmed and a pleasant sensation whirled in my head. Marko's arm appeared between Dwayne and me grabbing the bottle to quench his thirst. Wiping his mouth with his coat jacket and simultaneously swallowing, Marko let out a slight hiss. I turned around to regard him curiously.

"Never liked whiskey much," Marko provided. The lights flashed around us in bright reds and blues. The air became heavier.

"What do you like?" Paul slunk behind Marko and successfully reclaimed the bottle before escaping to the dense and throbbing crowd. Marko twisted to see Paul run off before turning back to me with a snicker.

"Blood!" Marko winked and tore into the crowd. His long curly hair was lost in the crowd, but I could still make out Paul sauntering up to a couple go-go dancers. They liked him as much as he liked the attention.

"Another drink?" Dwayne asked politely and I nodded with a blink. This is the most he has ever said to me. I glanced over to David only to find his seat empty. I scanned the club for him, but he had effectively disappeared along with Jake.

"They like to vanish. They'll be back," Dwayne yanked my attention back to him. A cute bartender poured us a couple more shots. Dwayne smiled at her forcing her to pause and smile back as she left the bottle of vodka for us. Turning to me, he smiled and fingered his shot.

"Thanks for sticking with me." Dwayne dipped his head in reply. I felt oddly comfortable with him despite how little I knew about him. Him speaking must of meant that he was just beginning to become comfortable with me as well. "You don't really say a whole lot do you?" Dwayne grinned and shrugged before turning his dark brown eyes on me.

I was content to stare at how long and beautiful his eyelashes were curtaining his eyes. Maybe I should have not so obvious in checking him out, but a smirk became more pronounced on his nice broad face. Shooting down the shot while keeping eye contact, he smacked his lips at me. "You can check me out anytime," he leaned toward me before slipping out of his seat and into the crowd.

I palm slapped my forehead and I screamed on the inside. Great! I took the shot greedily and poured myself another. Embarrassment does not even cover how I feel. My cheeks would be bright red right now if I had any skin left. I wanted to hide in the crowd. I glanced at it, but I rejected the idea almost as quickly. I'm brave, but I'm not that brave.

I nursed the shot in front of me while surveying the crowd. I didn't belong. Steadily, the abandoned chairs were reclaimed by others who would glance at me in nerves and curiosity.

The bartender snatched back the bottle of vodka while I stared down at my glass. I didn't bother to fight to get the bottle back. The liquor already had its affect on my body and mind and I relaxed against the bar.

"Hello," a man with dark hair slide into David's seat. I didn't look at him. I could tell I wouldn't like anything that he had to say. "Are you too good for me to say a simple hello?" I sighed slightly before gazing at him. He was average height and size, but had nice full lips. His green eyes stared back at me expectantly.

"What do you want," I flatly answered. The club went black and neon lights flashed on with a few green strobes dancing around the room.

"I'm just wonderin why you're here," he announced. His smile was entirely too sweet for me to not understand the insult. I frowned and felt my rough skin rub against my bandages.

"Fuck off," I spat. I downed the rest of my drink as he chuckled.

"You see there are some girls out there that have the good sense to stay inside the house. Now you are out and with a mask. Why don't you take it off? What's underneath it," he asked and my body became hot. I slowly backed out of my chair only to bump into another man. He was tall and had a dark complexion. The stranger stared down at me with the same predatory white smile. I glanced around and a small group of on-lookers grinned back at me with the same damned curiosity as the first. They wanted to see a freak show.

That freak show was me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied with as much strength as I could. He laughed.

"Well, we can't figure out why these guys are here with you," a girl chimed in with ugly red bangs.

"Look at that dumb mask," another brunette snapped.

"Did you really come here straight from work?"

"It's no surprise that you're here alone." I froze, but the offensive words kept pouring out.

"Are you someone's unwanted little sister?"

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital?"

"What happened to your face? How did you fuck it up?"

"You're creeping the girl's out; just go home _sweetheart_."

The abuse was more blunt and numerous than the usual at Bill's and was still flying at me with a startling speed. I started to lose my footing before I remembered one thing.

"Right! Bartender! Get me a double shot of your cheapest whiskey!" I hollered and miraculously the woman bartender quickly served me. I downed the shot, asked for another round as I heard them continue to talk to me.

"Oh, I get it! An alcoholic!"

"She'd have to be one."

I downed the other just as quickly and sputtered at my speed. I gestured for another round, but stared at it with the stillness of a brick.

The crowd had moved away, but that didn't discourage other mean comments.

"Nice mask," one Mexican remarked.

"Not Halloween yet," a handsome blonde smirked at me.

"Nice mask," another said.

"Is it Halloween already?"

_Give it a fucking break!_

The bar started to tilt ever so slightly and I knew that once I stood the world would be more confusing and hateful than it was sitting. I may weather the storm, but confronting all of those looks could break me a part. I sighed and resigned myself to my fate. Suddenly Paul and the others pushed other people out of their chairs around me just as quickly as they appeared. The men were affronted, but knew better than to challenge.

"Howz it going sugah," Paul slurred. I tilted my head to give him a blank look.

"Wouldn't know. You left me," I snapped. He frowned.

"Sorray!" Marko interrupted before leaning against Paul. Marko bit his finger nails and gave me his best doe eyed look. "We got caught up in the bottle," he said while gesturing to the empty bottle in hand. My eyes caught Paul's.

_Can I trust you_? I wanted to ask telepathically. I hoped Paul could read me, but the mask prevented so many understandings and quiet nuances that spoken discourse would not allow.

Damn, I need another drink.

And just like that, Dwayne next to me provided a shot of green liquor. I turned to him, but he wasn't facing me and continued to take his shot.

Paul jumped into my field of vision. I ignored him and took my shot, once again feeling cotton filling my body and mind. Instead of leaving me be, he grabbed my arm and hauled me out of my chair.

"HEY!" I yelled at him with wobbling knees and he grinned back at me.

"Come dance," he said while waving at the daunting crowd.

I glared daggers. "Fuck that."

"Ahhhh! Come on! Lemme make it up to you," he pleaded. My body began to sway from the alcohol. I was mad, but I knew dancing with him would feel good. Paul softly reached for my hand and I let him lead me to through the crowd.

I stared at his hand that held mine. I refused to look up at the spinning wild world of flashing bodies and lights. His hand was a cold surprise that anchored me. Paul stopped where had decided felt right so he began to rock out unabashed. I did not watch him; instead I let my movements and felt rhythm take over me. I flew into the beat and all the worries became melted butter. Cold hands took my own warm ones, moving me at his will. I spun and swam.

_Ana._

My eyes were lazy and glazed. The crowd moved slowly and the music came from far off in a horrid buzzing. I couldn't tell if it was the alcohol, but the room was a dream. I could taste illusion. Yet…

Paul still had my hands and in a trance, he spun me. The world was slower than my mind yet I could move no faster.

_Ana!_

The scream tore my gaze from Paul and at a white spot light.

In the light was someone I knew. Someone I hadn't seen in years.

_Lori-Ann_, my dearest and most decidedly dead friend held her hand out to me. A moment passed of suspended belief. Then, I spotted what was wrong with her image. She had no eyes.

I jerked out of Paul's grasp, tripping over my feet and rushed away from the sight. The world caught up with me astonishingly fast. I glanced back and suddenly I saw the vivid blackened oozing holes where her eyes used to be.

"Ana?" Paul struggled to follow me. I was in hysterics, pushing my way through while glancing back at the now empty spot. My body was cold.

_Ana…_

I stumbled… Oh great! Now I get drunk. Great timing body…

"Ana," Paul called.

_Ana!_ I focused on not tripping, but suddenly it became difficult to move my feet. Somehow I managed to get to the exit, and nearly fell out of the club. Taking two more steps, I clutched my freezing body.

I felt her behind, breathing into my ear. Her cold breath kept me from looking. I didn't move and neither did she.

_Run before it's too late._

A loud bang from behind made me jump. I turned quickly only to see a harassed and confused Paul. I stared back with no answer. Sighing, he approached me- the scared rabbit. Paul said nothing. He stood beside me, looking out at the darkened sky. I watched his face, ever mindful of how I ruined his fun. I could never explain what I had seen, but there were no questions that I was confronted with. He accepted my stiffness and knew whatever it was would be lost deep in myself.

"Drunk yet," he asked. I took stock of my shock and the buzzing in my head and limbs.

"Yep," I replied. Paul's eyes and crooked teeth sparkled at me.

"Let's go back in," he said nudging my arm. I took in a deep breath and willed myself to be stronger. Or drunker, both would do just fine right now.

The return to the club was not as bad as the first time. Paul guided me through the crowd with a firm hand and disregarded the various ladies that threw themselves at him which was quite funny to witness. Somehow, the boys had landed a table in a semi-secluded corner and where hammering down shots. Jake was present and unreadable.

"Heyyyyy thur! Take oneeeeee!" Marko sloppily wiped the dribble on his chin. Paul took one for us both and we clanked the glasses together. The alcohol was disgusting, but strengthened the blurriness around me.

The more shots we took, the less I remembered and thought. I hated thinking. I don't like to do it anymore.

I came to my sense's when I realized that we were outside getting ready to leave on bikes.

"We really shouldn't be driving," I hesitated. All of the boys chuckled.

"Nah, Ana. That's only you," Marko said. I believed him. He looked so convincing with his smile and honesty. I nodded and climbed on behind Paul. Paul muttered something about holding on before we jerked. I scrunched my eyes real tight as the boys began to holler. I was gonna vomit everywhere… Paul wouldn't like that. Keep your eyes shut, I ordered my eyeszies.

Ha ha! Eyeszies…

I began to take a nap, but as soon as I started to ease myself into the nice back of Paul, he moved away. I blinked.

"Look at this freak. Can't even hold her booze," Jake laughed as he poked me.

I am not sure what happened next. Something took hold before I knew what was happening.

I was staring down into the face of an astonished Jake. I was snarling at him with all my temper. The last straw had broken. Too much stress I guess. My mouth moved with a will of its own.

"I am tired, _Jake_. I am tired of all the comments! I am tired of all the names! I am sick of jerks like you who have something to say. You have no clue of what I gotta suffer through each day. What YOU think is hell will never **NEVER **come close to my shit. This mask is going to be my grave- a gravestone in every relationship. _Do_ _you understand what that means?_ I have to live with the pain that I am going to be alone. I have no power. No control," I said in a voice laden in thick incomprehensible emotion.

"I am tired of staying silent when all I want to do is scream and fight. And you wouldn't believe the fight I have left in me! The years of pretending of not hearin or carin... I am done! I have had it up to here with everything, fate, people, and you. I'm not gonna put up with your shit or anyone else. If you so much as say ONE more thing about me, with your eyes, actions or comments, so help me I'll rip your goddamn balls off and feed them to you." Jake was still, indecipherable, and I had the notion that something held him back.

I stood up and willed myself not to trip. Something like embarrassment crept up my neck in a blush as the silence grew awkward. I walked away and noticed David paying me a great deal more attention. He stared and his gaze cut through me, picking me a part piece by piece of what made me tick. A chill grew in the air. David's interest was not something I particularly wanted to capture. I only wanted a point to be made. Put pen to paper and meet his challenge.

I paused where I stood and defiantly met his eyes square. David did not temper his concentration and my anger meant little to him physically. I was no threat. However, I could not describe the depths of his eyes. Layer after layer, he scanned.

It occurred to me that I had surprised him.

Ha! I surprised the ominous David. Laughable in itself, but I was drunk enough to believe the thought.

Ice blue fighting green eyes. Something had changed within the group dynamics. I was like a little kid who had somehow grown up faster than anyone had anticipated. I didn't know the gravity of the changes I had forced upon them. The group had no idea what to do; their leader was stoic.

_Time to go._

I did not look to Paul or anyone as I found my feet hurrying to the front door of some random house. A heard a slight shuffle before Paul jumped in front of me. His eyes deep and serious stopped me dead.

"I'm sorry," he said without a hint of a smile or tease. My crying mind stop in mid-weap and I peered at him with meaning. I had nothing to say. His sorry did nothing for me. My reality would never change. "Can we start out new?" Hope became a wild-fire. A part of me awoke and life changed, but I didn't understand.

"Sure," I breathed. He smile could have made me glow. Maybe it did… I'll never know.

Together, he made me skip with him up to the door way and open it unannounced. The party-goers stared at us in amazement and amusement.

"HEYYYYYYY," they cheered with him. I smiled. No one paid me any special attention. Paul was the source of all of their entertainment.

"WE NEED BEER!" Paul ushered me through the noisy room towards the kitchen. Inside was a keg. Just what I needed!

"Your turn milady," Paul said handing me a cup. He filled it up to the brim before helping himself to one.

"HEYYYYYYYY," the crowd cheered again as the rest of the lot entered. Paul and I toasted before chugging the entirety of our beers. Paul was refilling my own while I let out some amazing burps as the boys came into the kitchen. For a moment, Dwayne regarded me and turning away without a comment. Jake kept himself as far as he could while still keeping his cool. Marko was too drunk to care. Behind the group was David who eyed us while smoking his cigarette. As I was handed my drink, David finally lost interest before turning his attention to the assortment of liquors by the sink.

Paul and I stepped out of the way for the others to get their fill, but that regrettably meant that we were to be close to David, who was for all intensive purposes making the most complicated drink. His hands were experts. I could not catch the liquors and mixer's that he chose for his drink.

_He's done this before_…

Music that I knew like the back of my hand came on. "Journey," I breathed turning excitedly at Paul. We grinned in unison subsequently darting to the living room. I felt a part of the crowd as we jumped, sung and used each other as duets.

Songs that I knew and loved came and went. Before too long, Paul had left to get me another beer. I laughed with some girls over a guy who went head first into his friend's crotch.

"What an idiot," a girl with pretty brown eyes shaking her head while looking at me in the eye. I nodded and felt some pleasure at having some interaction with someone other than a jack-ass.

Paul returned with Dwayne in tow. "Here ya are," he said handing me my drink. I slurped it a little bit, as the girl beside me laughed.

"Taste good?" She teased with gentleness that I did not expect. I opened my mouth to say something, but a loud responding burp came out. I shied my eyes and face away immediately, but a good natured laugh had my eyes return to the group. Dwayne and Paul shared a glance and I knew something unspoken passed between them. I bet they would start to see who would catch her interest first.

"I'm Shay," she introduced. Introductions were made accordingly.

"Soooooo…. Shay, it looks like you could use another drink. Wanna come with me so I could make ya another," Paul asked like a puppy-dog begging his master to come watch what he could do. Shay paused in surprise before sending me a questioning look of permission. Usually, this kind of stuff I shied away from other girls. I understood reading between the lines, but I hated this kind of interaction. Shay, however, seemed to understand the gist of the situation. But I was not Paul's keeper.

_Or lover…_

The slightest of nods I gave her before she smiled at him cutely. "Sure," she replied. He took her delightedly by the arm before escorting her to the kitchen. No more time would be spent with Paul tonight.

Taking a rather large gulp at that thought, I saw Dwayne consider me. His dark eyes contained just as big of a mystery as the rest of the boys. In a way, the companionship with him was easier than anyone else of the group. Paul was hard because I cared for him romantically.

Shit- I was making a mess of things already.

What could I say to Dwayne? What is he interested in?

I voiced the latter to Dwayne and he silently contemplated my question. Before I could get a decent answer, three young and definitely drunk guys staggered at Dwayne and me. Dwayne's noise flared at the pungent smell of alcohol.

"Hey! So, me and my buddies were wonderin," the smallest of them began. He had nice clothes, but everything else was lacking.

"WE- were wonderin," another chimed in.

"Why YOU were invited," the smallest finished. They smirked together and choked back their laughs. Dwayne and I were statues. The gang did not realize that they had passed into no-man's land. I felt a deep part of me roar. The roar carried fire to me instantaneously. I didn't feel my mouth move, but I heard it well enough.

"Why don't you and your thinning hair fuck off before I decide to improve your appearance by shaving the rest of it?" The smallest man glared at me before self-consciously running his hands through the remaining follicles. I could have smiled in triumph, but they wouldn't have seen it.

"This is coming from a girl who is wearing a mask? Who the hell does that?"

"A freak- that's what," the middle man quipped. I felt something inside drop in my stomach. It made an acidic splash that echoed through my body.

"Can I even call you men? Three idiots harassing me seems more appropriate." Dwayne shifted. I did not look at him further.

"Why don't you go fuck yourself?"

"Dude! Who would want to tap _that_?" I felt heat. Me snapping- was a mere moment away.

Then Dwayne decided to save the day.

Dwayne stepped between us, facing them with his back to me while I glared daggers.

"Boys," he addressed them quietly. "Get out," he ordered, but I heard the veiled threat. They glanced at each other before giving me a death glare. It was a silent Mexican standoff, of which I knew I had the advantage. From the outside world it was mere moments, but it felt like an hour before they decided to slink away out the door.

Glancing at each other, a sigh escaped us at the same time. It caused a wearied and drunken grin on my face.

"Thanx," I said. He continued to eye me. I turned and began to walk away when I heard his reply.

"You're welcome," he offered. I felt like the words did not grace his lips enough. I turned back around. His face was devoid of emotion, but I wasn't uncomfortable.

"You know…" I began as his eye continued to stay on mine. "As much as I hate this mask, I will say it has given me one blessing." Dwayne's eyebrows shot up and waited patiently for me to finish. "It's easier to have no one know what I am." Dwayne stilled and mulled over my words. It occurred to me that I said something significant; I just simply didn't know what.

I left Dwayne. The night blurred until I found myself completely without any good sense.

Slipping around the corner, I felt my feet tangle like string and I soundly fell to the floor of the empty room. I was too tired to giggle at my idiocy. My exhausted eyes shut and I found the floor quiet the ideal area to sleep away from the loud crowd outside. A crowd I would never fit into.

Dammit! Stop. I can't keep torturing myself. Let the booze take me, no guy here would touch me. I am too much phantom of the opera.

The image of me singing on a stage made me grin. What a thought! Everyone would love me then. How could they resist me?

A giggle scratched my ears and was followed by another ear-cringing one. It pulled me out of myself and I lazily rolled to my side to see who was in the room with me. It was dark so I couldn't see very far (especially with the world spinning like this) but I could see two- no three forms in the dark. Two slithered around each other, one arm reaching out to another form that casually leaned against the wall. The leaning form was bigger than the others and distinctly male. He watched the two snakes dance upon each other with a detached air. Hands and arms reached for him but he was unmoved. I was about to get up and let them have their ménage-a-trios, when a flash of a small lighter light up the face of David.

Shadows flickered across his demonic and dramatic façade. His cheeks were lengthened and eyes were set deeper by the lighters flame. The cigarette perched in his mouth smoldered a lovely red as his eyes glanced up, but they weren't blue…

Yellow cat-eyes flashed for a long moment as he observed the two women. Wow, he really is a monster.

_Get out…_ The words seemed to be whispered yet I heard nothing. Fear and anxiety hit me as I scrambled to get up and out the door. My chest tightened as I stumbled to the doorway.

_Shut the door._ The command made my head swim and body shake. I glimpsed the girls approach David as the door quietly closed. I stood still as I exhaled painfully.

David scares me.

I giggled. "What a freak," I snickered before staggering down the hallway.

* * *

A preview has been made for the the Masks We Wear. The link is on my profile and I hope u like it.

I understand that it's been some time since my last update. My apologies to you readers and fans. My excuse is life, but when isn't it the excuse? I also understand that some may not review due to my last post titled _A Message From Our Sponsors_. It was a creative piece and I hope it doesn't effect your decision negatively to review this chapter. Please, do review. I would really appreciate it.


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